


The Enigma to My Heart

by TheDoctorsJenny



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoctorsJenny/pseuds/TheDoctorsJenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality. <br/>Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius. <br/>She was destruction, and fire, and death.<br/>He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past. <br/>When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abrielle Watson: Back in The Game

**ABRIELLE'S POV**

Gilded. That's what this place was. It seemed wealthy and shining like gold on the outside, but in reality it was broken and more like a speck of dirt than gold. What people looked at when they saw London, England was a magical place. A place that held job opportunities and hot guys with British accents and of course a queen. It was the beauteous place that television made it out to be. When in reality it was anything but beautiful. If you dug deep enough underneath all the smiles and rainbows, you'd see what I see. A piece of trash, because honestly that's what it was with all of it's murderers and liars and manipulators. Most people saw the beauty of the situation, the optimistic point of view. But I'm not most people. Those people, which was sadly most of the world, weren't as fortunate to see how beautifully messed up England truly was. But having a job like mine, and a view of people that was so utterly condescending I was fortunate to see just what my old home was like in reality. A trash hole, a place for the psychopaths, and a home for all the first class A-holes. I said that I'd never come back to this mirage of a place, and yet here I was walking down the cracked sidewalk in the nippy morning air, my cool breath coming out in swirls of white as it met the frigid cold. Cars sped past me in a rush of colors as if I was on a merry go round with no way off, this was London alright. Always rushing, never stopping not even for one second. I hadn't been in London for a while, yet, even I felt the the heart of London beating fast within my chest. Fast, like a drum, a never ending drumbeat. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. I felt it rush through my body like a drug. A drug I had constantly missed the feeling of while I been gone, it was like a piece of me was missing. But now, being back ... it was like I was whole again. Well, as whole as a pessimistic person could be in the world. I stopped my long walk through the city as I neared my destination and walked carefully up to the door marked 221B. This is it, the place my brother had described to me in his emails. Ugh, my brother. Simply thinking about him made my head explode. Usually we got along quite well, sibling rivalry aside of course. But today, today was different. Today I flew back from America and my brother had supposedly forgotten to pick me up from the airport. I had stood there waiting for what felt like an eternity until I finally decided that he wasn't going to be coming to get me anytime soon. Stupid siblings and their stupid memory. I snapped out my thoughts of my terrible brother and knocked confidently on the door. After waiting a few minutes and receiving no answer whatsoever, I decided to pick the lock. My brother was after all most likely not home at the moment, and I had no intention of waiting outside in the horrid weather, so picking the lock would have to do. I slide a sleek black bobby pin out of my hair and crouched down towards the lock, twisting and turning it around within the lock until I found the right position. A few seconds later, much to my own success, the door clicked open, and I slid the bobby pin I had used back into my hair. My hair was a mess after sleeping on a plane for hours on end, so using bobby pins to make it look somewhat presentable was the best I could do. After fooling around with my annoyingly curly hair for no apparent reason, I lifted up my suitcase and lugged it up the stairs until I reached the right flat. I paused in surprise to see a silhouette of a person sitting in a chair. My stupid brother was still home, and he couldn't be bothered to go see who was at the door! That's it, that's a new low even for him! Not picking me up from the airport was bad enough, but now he was too lazy to even get off his lazy arse and answer the damn door! Now I was definitely cross with him! I walked calmly into the flat, even though my mental barriers were just screaming at me to punch something, preferably my brother, and storm out. I walked closer to realize this was indeed not my brother but a somewhat handsome curly haired stranger, reading on the couch without a care in the world. Definitely NOT my short statured, blonde haired big brother. Deciding that the best way to figure out where my brother had gone was to engage in conversation I gently set my suitcase on the floor as to not startle the man and formed a question so remarkably simple anyone could understand it.

"Hi, is this John Watson's apartment?" I asked in faux confusion, my tone wavering and unsure as if I were new to the area. The mysterious man looked up, and shut the book with a loud snap, staring up at me with cool calculating diamond blue eyes that matched my own.

"Yes." The man replied, an amused smile clearly on his lips. His eyes looked me up and down as if analysing me, the same way I analysed other people. It was like looking into a mirror, just you know, one that showed you how you'd look as the opposite sex.

"And you are?" I replied with a raise of my eyebrows, my eyes staring unfazed into the strange man's mystifying crystal orbs.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes." The man stated with a condescending tone, I glanced at him, my eyes watching as his fingers danced across the couch randomly as if out of boredom. This was Sherlock Holmes alright, there was no doubting that.

"Ah, you're the amazing consulting detective John told me about. Well, go on deduce me, I know you're dying to." I replied in a smug way. I was very interested in what he would be able to come up with. I knew that he was very good at what he did, which John had clearly expressed through his blog. From the way John talked about his amazing powers of deduction it was as if he was talking about a god, which certainly made Sherlock an interesting character. From the way he looked distracted, and from simply seeing how uninterested he was in the conversation, I knew that he was most likely bored. Thus, it meant giving him something to do, which lead to me allowing him to do the thing he loves the most, deducing people.

"Well, considering you know John I'd say girlfriend, but you've clearly been traveling. An eleven hour flight across the time zones I'd say from the look of your hand. Probably somewhere in America, most likely California or Florida. Besides that you came in here as if you expected to see someone, so someone, most likely John was supposed to pick you up from the airport. Then there's the fact that you seemed familiar with him, so not a girlfriend. From the way your eyes looked when you walked in, I'd say maybe an old friend but you look similar to John so most likely you're his sister." Sherlock rambled at an amazingly fast speed. It was interesting to see someone do that so quickly like me. After seeing it first hand, John was definitely not wrong. Sherlock Holmes was certainly something. In fact, in a way, she was kind of attracted to him. He was smart, and mysterious, which was certainly her type.

"Abrielle Watson at your service." I confirmed, bowing in mock playfulness, a small smirk resting on my lips. It was so good to finally say that to a normal human being after so long! It was always one fake name after another, and finally, now she could just be herself. Abrielle L. Watson, the youngest sibling of the family. I was snapped out of my thoughts when a deep baritone voice sounded through the tiny flat.

"How come he never mentioned you?" Sherlock inquired, curiosity taking the better of him. Of course John didn't tell him about me, he still felt the need to protect me even after all these years. I was the secret of the family, only known to even be alive by a tiny group of people. I was homeschooled growing up, and I was never really allowed out of the house, except on vacations. As for my social life, well I had John, and sometimes Harry. But other than that I never really had any friends. I didn't even start dating until I was well into my twenties ... though that never did work out for me. After a few seconds of thought, I came up with the perfect way to explain John's reasoning for keeping me a secret without letting too much slip.

"Because he tends to want to keep me a secret. He doesn't want to put me in harms way so he doesn't talk about me. It's been that way since we were little." I explained. Isn't that how it was with any relationship between the eldest and the youngest sibling. The need to protect and mother the child relentlessly. That's definitely how John was with me, I was after all the weak little baby of the family. Too delicate to do anything, and too weak to do much else. I was the girl of the family, the doll my mother dressed up in frilly crap. I was the one thing my family had always wanted, a normal little girl.

"So was I right?" Sherlock questioned randomly, taking me away from my thoughts from the moment. Did he just ask if he was right? Of course he was, so why would he ask such a thing? Maybe he just gets a kick out of showing off, that smug bastard. Alright, I'll play along.

"Yes, you were. How did you know all that stuff?" I asked in fake surprise that seemed very well executed. He wants to act like a show off, I'll let him, but I won't let him have the victory of it. Just when he thinks that he's won I'll snatch out the rug from under him and flip the tables. He may think he's some amazing genius, but the truth was I was just as smart, and there was no way he'd ever win against me. Let him deduce me and let him think himself the smartest person in the room, because really at the end of the day, he won't be.

"Considering your hair looked messy and your hand has a indent on it, you were probably sleeping on a plane for a long time. So since it's morning here it was most likely a flight that crosses the time zone. The only flight that is longer than two hours and crosses the time zone is the flight from America. I said it was California or Florida because of the slight tan on your arms and legs but not on your shoulders, so it was somewhere that gets a lot of sun all the time. When I first saw you, you looked mad as if you were expecting to yell at someone, yet when you saw that John wasn't here that look went away, meaning that you were mad at him ... probably for not picking you up. The way you hold yourself says you're familiar with John, so your someone that knows him. But considering you have his height, eyes and face structure you had to be his sister." He responded, ending his long explanation with a quick smile. He thought he had just showed me something amazing, something so new to me I would think it magical. When that was anything but the truth. I bet that he's done this to so many people without one ounce of regret to blurting out someone's whole life story. Well, I'm different. I'm not just going to sit back and do nothing, I was going to teach the great Sherlock Holmes a lesson once and for all.

"Interesting." I said, the tiniest bit of sarcasm slipping out. What was so interesting about one person being able to tell you the whole life story of someone with just one glance? It wasn't that amazing was it? I mean I've seen other people deduce, and it wasn't that interesting, in fact I found it boring. It was more a mental exercise than a game, so where was the fun in that?

"Really?" He questioned in surprise, my own mind wondering if he even realized that I wasn't at all being serious.

"Yes. So tell me do you know yet? Florida or California?" I proposed, my question lingering in the air as I watched him thinking it over.

"No, though I'd guess California but it could just as well be Florida." He admitted, my eyes surely twinkling in amusement at his answer.

"Alright." I retorted, choosing not to give him a straight answer either way. If he was going to find out, he was going to find out himself, and not because I told him the answer.

"Are you going to tell me?" He asked me in confusion as he stood up from the couch and approached me. His eyes looking down at me as I stared right back up at him with defiance in my eyes. Did he really think he'd get an answer out of me that easily, because that was not going to happen, not at all. I was a rebellious pain in the arse, and he had another thing coming if he honest to god thought I'd simply tell him.

"No. Why should I?" I inquired, placing my hands across my chest. I was having fun now, Sherlock was fun to play around with. He was like a stubborn toddler, and I loved playing with little kids.

"You can't just leave me guessing, I need to know." Sherlock complained, my laughter rolling off my lips at his adorable behavior.

"Why? Not knowing is a mystery that still needs to be figured out and every Detective loves a good mystery." I countered, moving towards him and removing the few inches between us. I think I was starting to like Sherlock, I mean sure he was annoying and an overall pain, but I was the same. Sherlock and I would be great friends soon, I just knew it.

"Tell me." He replied back in an annoyed tone.

"Deduce it yourself. You are the great Sherlock Holmes, well show me how smart you are." I suggested, my eyes glinting with mischief.

"I already did show you, how much more proof do you need?" He asked in a demanding tone.

"Oh, anyone can simply observe and deduce, but not everyone can be a genius." I retaliated, sliding past him as I made my way to the couch and sat down. If everyone just opened their eyes a bit wider and actually looked at their surroundings, we'd end up with more people capable of deducing other than the only three people in the world that could deduce now.

"That's false actually. Everyone can fake being a genius, but not everyone can deduce. They see but they don't observe." He pointed out, my own smirk leaving my lips as quickly as it had appeared. He did not just go there. I'm rarely wrong, and when I am I point it out. I don't need some A-hole to do it for me!

"Well, if you think you're so good at deducing and no one else is, why don't you prove it to me?" I questioned, a new plan already forming in my mind. He wanted to prove me wrong, yet what he hadn't thought about was the fact that I clearly had the upperhand. All I had to do was question him until he explodes with anger. It's worked with John in the past, so it's bound to work with Sherlock as well.

"Well, you're left hand has ink on it and your fingers look numb as though you spend countless hours writing. You most likely work as a newspaper journalist or a writer of some kind. So considering you'd only find jobs like that in California, I'd say you lived there for some time before you came up here. The question is why would you leave an area like that when you had the perfect job that paid tons of money. Answer: Something happened non work related that caused you to up and leave. Going by the faint whiteness on your ring finger I'd say relationship troubles ... but then again you can never really know for sure." He shot out in quick session. My eyebrows raising as I stared at him in slight surprise. He wasn't necessarily wrong, but he wasn't necessarily right either.

"You're right. I was a screenwriter in Hollywood, I lived there for a little while." I stated, resting my head against the arm of the couch as he looked at me in interest.

"And, why did you leave?" He inquired, walking over to me in curiosity.

"Me and my fiance had a fight and I walked out. Simple as that." I said, remembering the horrible fight that had started it all. I loved him, but he loved his job more so than he loved me. Our love was fake. It was superficial, he was always kissing me for show but he never actually made my heart beat out of tune, or make my head explode with emotions. I was his arm candy, nothing more and nothing less. And yet, when he found a prettier companion he ignored me completely and knocked me out of the picture. Besides he was bad news, I needed to leave that past behind me before anybody found out. I looked up at Sherlock, my eyes briefly glinting with regret.

"So you decided to come live with your big brother." He sarcastically countered, smiling as he did. The smart arse probably thought I was just some weak little thing that ran home to her big bad brother at the first sign of trouble. He clearly didn't know the whole story.

"Yeah. It's better than nothing. By the way, where is John?" I inquired, hoping that I'd be able to see my brother soon. I needed to have a word with him about leaving his little sister stranded in the middle of London.

"He's out getting the shopping. He should be back in next ten or fifteen minutes." Sherlock replied nonchalantly, pulling out a book from the bookshelf and sitting in his chair.

"Alright. Do you mind if I hang out here then?" I asked, not even going to take no for an answer.

"I rather you didn't but considering you're John's sister you're welcome to do whatever you want." He stated, not even looking up from his book.

"Alright Mr.Rude. Be that way." I replied playfully, staring boredly up at the ceiling. I considered going to my mind palace but when I was in the presence of another human being it wasn't the best idea in the world. I didn't really want to do anything boring such as simply sitting there and counting the dust specks on the ceiling... and I hadn't necessarily made Sherlock snap yet ... so that's what I would do.

"So what do you do around here for fun?" I asked after a few minutes of awkward silence, deciding on how I would make Sherlock angry. I knew he hated stupid questions in general, and he was trying to read a book ... so simply engaging in conversation would probably set him off.

As if to prove me correct a second after I had questioned him, he looked up from his book and shot me a menacing glare.

"Ugh! Shut up." Sherlock snapped, watching as my lips curved into a tiny smile.

"Oh I see, you're trying to read." I stated in amusement, watching him glance over the pages. It was working, he was getting fed up!

"Yes, and it would be nice if you would just shut up." He replied in irritation. My eyes widening in astonishment. If I knew he would snap this quickly, I wouldn't have even given any effort to make him snap!

"Well, tough." I stated, slowly regaining my composure back. If he wanted me to shut up he could kiss my arse. I didn't give a damn what other people wanted, I would do what I wanted when I wanted and no one could tell me otherwise.

"Wait, what?" He asked in surprise, staring at me in confusion.

"I can talk if I want to. It's called freedom of speech." I clarified, shooting him an innocent smile. Legally I could talk if I wanted to, it was after all in the constitution ... although that was in America, not England. So did that me that it didn't count? Or did it count, since I lived in America before? Well, it didn't matter what counted, I spoke my mind and to me that was freedom of speech. I'd make it legal if I had to.

"Yes, well you may have freedom of speech, but this is my flat." He responded in exasperation, not even noticing the fact that freedom of speech technically wasn't even applied to this country.

"Oh yes, the flat that my brother who happens to be your flatmate invited me to stay in. So I'm welcome to talk here just as well as anywhere. So if you want to read go somewhere else." I demanded, pointing in the general direction of the hallway that I assumed lead to his bedroom.

"I'll be in my room!" Sherlock exclaimed as he threw his book to the floor and stomped off in a huff in the area I had pointed out. The loud sound of his door slamming shut resounding off the walls a minute later.

I got up from the couch and walked over to where Sherlock's book lay discarded on the dusty floor, and gently picked it up, dusting off the cover in one fluid motion.

"Geez, He's such a child, how does John deal with him! I would not be able to deal with that twenty four seven, that's just too much." I mumbled quietly to myself as I stared off in the direction he had stormed off. He certainly got angry very quickly, which helped me to figure out what not to do around him. I walked to Sherlock's chair, lost deep in my thoughts and sat down, glancing carefully down at the book still in my hands.

"How old is he? I haven't read the Hobbit series since I was eleven!" I exclaimed aloud to the empty flat. Sherlock was going to be quite the person to hang around with for the next couple of months. And maybe just maybe he would end up liking her and not begging John to murder her so he could solve it. Maybe just maybe she wouldn't end up killing him for being an utter twat. And hopefully at the end of all of this they would become the best of friends. Sherlock was the strangest of people, in fact he was a mystery. A mystery that I couldn't wait to unravel. He was my puzzle, my game of chess, and it was his move now. I'd figure him out soon enough, he wouldn't be able to hide from me forever. There's only so much time before someone wins the game of life, and I never lost. The game is on, and there was no turning back now. I was finally home, and I was finally myself. Abrielle Watson was back in the game, and I would win. I always win.   


	2. Sibling Rivalry and The King of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

After about thirty or so minutes of sitting there doing absolutely nothing I had finally had enough. I was bored out of my mind and sitting there was doing nothing to change that, so I decided I was going to snoop around the flat a little bit, see if I could find anything interesting. I stood up from where I had been previously sitting and walked towards the kitchen where I knew the more interesting things would be. Having knowledge of Sherlock's hobbies from John's blog I knew exactly what I was looking for. His experiments. I walked to the fridge and opened it to reveal a human head, just the type of thing I was looking for to quench my thirst for adventure. Well, for the time being anyways. Right as I was about to pick up the head, a loud slam of a door echoed downstairs, which of course meant one thing. John was home to ruin my fun. I shut the door as quietly as possible and made my way back to the couch where I was now standing. If John had found me playing with a corpse's head he'd flip! And I did not feel like being yelled at, in fact I wanted to yell at him for forgetting me! Not the other way around! I snapped out of my thoughts, the sounds of John making his way up the stairs sounding through the area as I opened the door.

"Don't worry about me. I can manage." John sarcastically announced, not even looking up from the two bags of food he was trying to lug into the flat.

"Why in the world would I help you when you forgot to pick me up from the airport?" I inquired, rolling my eyes at my forgetful brother. John hadn't changed one bit since the last time I'd seen him. He was still the sarcastic, caring, man that he always was. The army had changed him though, made him more proud ... stronger in a way. He was a better person because of it, and it was something I hoped never changed.

"Abrielle! Oh my gosh, it's Wednesday isn't it." He stated in surprise, looking at me with a spark of guilt. Poor John, even he knew I was going to scold him.

"Yup, it sure as hell is." I screamed at him, the anger from earlier seeping back into my voice. He flinched at my tone, his fingers digging into the bags as he set the food down. He knew I was angry, he just knew, and yet he didn't even try to stop me from yelling at him. The question was ... why?

"I'm so sorry Abrielle, it totally slipped my mind." John exclaimed in regret, staring at me like a lost puppy. He felt bad. That's why he kept apologizing. He knew he deserved it, so he wasn't going to stop me. It was like we were young kids again. I always did this when we were children, I would yell at John and he would stand there and take it like the amazing big brother he always was. Even if my anger was controlling me at the moment I couldn't help but smile the tiniest bit at the thought of how awesome John truly was.

"I had to wait at the airport for two and a half hours John." I muttered, not having the strength to yell at him any longer. Yes, he forgot me, and yes I had waited for him for a really long time. But he had apologized, and that was all I could ever ask for from him. Besides, it wasn't like he'd do it ever again. He knew better now.

"I know, and I promise I'll make it up to you." John said, glancing at me with a small smile as he began to put the groceries away.

"You better brother dear." I stated, my own lips pulling up into a small smile as well. I knew he'd make it up to me eventually, he was always one for presents, and there was no doubt in my mind that he'd give me something sometime soon.

"So then, how was the flight." John asked me, his back to me as he began placing things into the cupboards.

"So boring." I complained, watching as he rolled his eyes at my childish behavior. Yes, Okay, I was acting like a five year old. And yes, I was complaining about a plane flight. But it was his fault for asking. We had after all grown up together, he knew I would end up complaining about something eventually, he should've seen this coming.

"Please tell me you didn't do anything too drastic." John begged, staring at her in annoyance.

"No, why would I?" I asked, laughing at the accusation. All I did was stare out the window and daydream ... it wasn't like I killed a guy because I got bored. Geez, from the way John was whining, it was like I set the plane on fire because I had nothing better to do!

"You tend to do overdramatic things when your bored. Remember the time you almost blew up a whole house because you didn't have anything to do." John said accusingly a smirk playing on his lips and his eyes twinkling with amusement. Alright, I almost blew a house up. Key word almost. It wasn't like I had blown it up.

"That's not overdramatic, if anything that was just something to keep me occupied. Besides, I was fourteen what else was I supposed to do?" I asked him offended at his statement. I knew he was just trying to prove a point ... but really did he have to call me dramatic? I was not dramatic! I'm never dramatic! I was fourteen, and I got bored simple as that, no dramatic about it. Besides, it was for an experiment, I wanted to see how long it would take a plastic bottle filled with my blood to melt over a fire. I didn't have anything else to do, so working on an experiment was what I had decided to do.

"Um how about, reading books and worrying about how you looked, like other girls that were your age." John replied sarcastically, snapping me out of the memories of my past.

"Oh come on, I had already read every single book we owned in a week, and I didn't care about my looks. If people didn't like how I looked it was their own problem." I replied, looking at him like he was an idiot. He knew this stuff already. I was a fast reader, so reading was never the most interesting of things. Besides, I always knew what was going to happen, they were always too easy to figure out. And as for caring about how I looked, well, what was the point? The only people I ever saw were my family and my neighbors. If they didn't like the way I looked they could deal with it. I liked how I looked, and there was no way in hell I would change it.

"So anyways, where is Sherlock? Did you meet him?" John asked, trying his best to change the subject.

"Oh yeah, I met him. He's such a child, how can you possible deal with that all the time?" I asked him in surprise. Taking care of Sherlock Holmes was like taking care of a newborn baby. It was nearly impossible!

"It's called patience." John replied, laughing at my question. Yeah, you definitely would need a butt load of patience if you were hanging around Sherlock. He was a problem in need of constant fixing. He was rude, and a show off, and more a machine than a human. John was perfect in this kind of situation because he was kind, and helpful and definitely a patient person. He was everything Sherlock wasn't. He was reserved, while Sherlock was dramatic ... and he was quiet when Sherlock was loud. Unlike me, he was a much better friend for Sherlock.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't be able to handle that all the time. I'd probably end up throwing him out the window." I said, a smirk making its way onto my lips as the thought of Sherlock tumbling out a window played in my mind. He was as annoying as hell and most certainly deserved it.

"And that's why I'm the patient one and you aren't." John confirmed, rolling his eyes at me yet again because of my behavior.

"Where is Sherlock anyways?" John asked me as he walked past me and sat down on his chair.

"He ran to his room when I told him off." I replied, my eyes glinting with happiness. I can't believe making him cross had worked so easily, Sherlock was easily annoyed which was something he needed to fix and fast. He was in a business where a weakness like that could be used towards his disadvantage. Crime solving was a risky business and made a lot of people really mad, really fast. Getting annoyed easily could go as far as getting John kidnapped which was something I never ever wanted. It was the reason that I tried my best to control my anger. Anger was the undoing of us all. Anger is what causes people to act irrationally, and it was an emotion that I had struggled with the most over the years. I was fine now and it was not a weakness for me anymore, it was my strength. Sherlock on the other hand well ... not so much.

"What did he do this time?" John inquired, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"He told me to shut up, and I explained to him why I was allowed to talk." I replied. Smiling innocently at him.

"Oh not that speech again. Please tell me you didn't go on and on about the freedom of speech like last time." John said dreadfully. Covering his face with his hands and shaking his head, as if in disappointment. I know that I gave that speech too much, but no one questioned it. It was as if they didn't even realize that we lived in London and not America.

"Hey, it was his fault for telling me to shut up!" I explained, sticking up for myself. It wasn't my fault that Sherlock was born an arrogant arse. If anything it was his own fault.

"You two are going to be the end of me!" John replied, closing his eyes in despair. I smiled at him, laughing at his attitude. It was like he was giving up before he had even started!

"I'm only staying with you until I find a better flat, you only have to survive like a week or two at the most. Besides, I'm not _that_ bad!" I stated, explaining my circumstances. To be quite honest, I really did hope to find a flat somewhere close by, I wanted to stay close to my brother, and I wanted to make sure that neither him nor Sherlock got hurt. Even if I did barely know Sherlock, he wasn't terrible and it wasn't like I wanted him dead. He was perfectly alright ... just too, childish is all.

"No your right, your worse." John agreed, Sarcastically adding in his thoughts. No way was I at all worse than Sherlock. In fact, he was way worse than me, in a way that I couldn't even compare. He was psychopath bad, and I was kidnapper bad. Two totally different levels of the scale!

"Oh shut it." I said playfully, my eyes glinting with mischief as John decided to start our sibling rivalry up again. We were always so competitive ... about everything really, but the sibling rivalry was always the one thing that got John out of his shell. That was where he shined the most, pranks and all.

"I have a right to talk according to you, freedom of speech and all." John replied, smiling at me as I looked at him appalled. I quickly got out my shock, my brain coming up with a million curse words to just throw my brother for using what I had said against me. He can't just do that! Could he? It was so uncalled for, it was genius! My brother the genius.

"I will cut a giant hole in all of your clothes if you don't stop talking this second." I shot back at him, an evil smile overtaking my face. Two could play at that game John, two play at that game. I was the queen of bad behavior, cross me and you get burnt. John knew that.

"Fine, you win this time." John forced out bitterly. Upset at losing our little game.

"I always win, give it a break John." I gleefully replied, staring at him with a mixture of sympathy and total utter joy

"I'll win eventually." John assured me, picking up a stack of mail and starting to rifle through it. I sat down across from him, watching him in curiosity. Is this what he did when no one was around? Get the groceries and read the mail? John was like an old man, geez, Sherlock had really changed him. He was like Sherlock's mother or something. See no, that was going to have to change. Sherlock was going to have to grow up and do some of the work around the flat, John couldn't do all the work for him! Just as I was about to storm into Sherlock's room and have a violent talk with him about taking some responsibilities around here, John let out an upset sigh, stopping me from doing anything. Whatever was upsetting John was way more important than anything I had to say to Sherlock. The talk could wait. Right now I needed to help my brother.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, furring my eyebrows in curiosity. Family was everything, it was all I ever had, and it was all I ever care about. Not only that, but John was really important to me, his problems were my problems, and his tears were my tears. Watson's stuck together no if, ands, or buts about it.

"We're behind on our payment for the flat." John explained, holding up the bill in annoyance.

"I can loan you some money if you want." I replied, smiling at my brother because of the easy solution.

"No, really it's fine. I'll just tell Sherlock that I need him to help with the bill this month." John replied, giving me a kind smile at my generous suggestion. It was no problem at all, I had plenty of money and giving him a small portion was really nothing. Just as I was about to demand him to take at least some of my money to help with the bill, Sherlock rushed out of his room a loud bang sounding through the flat as he slammed his bedroom door closed behind him.

"Listen, um ... if you'd be able to lend me some ..." John stuttered, trying his best to approach this matter in the most delicate way possible. To make the situation worse, it seemed as if Sherlock wasn't even listening.

"I need to go to the bank. Abrielle, you're coming too." Sherlock demanded, interrupting John from what he was about to say.

"No." I replied in defiance. If Sherlock thought I'd go with him after he flat out demanded me to, well he was very much mistaken. I did not take well with being told what to do and when to do it. I was my own person and I could make my own choices.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Sherlock questioned in surprise.

"I mean I will not allow you to boss me around. I'm a human being and you will treat me like one." I explained, my eyes glaring at him in anger. I bet no ever told him no because he always got his way. Well, today he was going to learn the meaning of no. He was not going to lead me everywhere like I was on a leash, because unlike my brother I had a brain and I was going to use it to speak my mind.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock asked in confusion, clearly not understanding why I wouldn't want to go with him.

"You heard me perfectly well, I'm not coming with you until you treat me with at least one ounce of respect." I replied, expecting him to just ask me politely so we could be on our merry way. But of course, nothing is ever easy with Sherlock Holmes, not even the most simplest of requests.

"Nope. Freedom of speech remember, I can say what I want." Sherlock replied with a smirk on his face.

"Oh I see, you think your all smart throwing what I said to you back at me. Bravo, genius, bravo. The only problem with that is that women have rights too, and it's called gender equality. You have to show me the same respect that you give John." I snapped back, wanting oh so much to punch him in the face. He was being a total and utter pain in the arse and that was not something that I appreciated. He needed to give me respect, just the tiniest bit of respect and then I would treat him as my equal instead of the child he was.

"I don't give John any respect!" Sherlock yelled in exasperation, glaring at me in anger.

"Oi, cool it both of you!" John screamed at both of us, standing in between us in fear that we'd murder each other otherwise. Of course, John was the mediator, he always was. John was always the peaceful one in the family, always stepping into mine and Harry's fights to be the voice of reason. The best part of John ... or perhaps the worst is that he never played favorites in these situations, he was always fair. He listened to both sides of the story and based on both sides and both sides only would he judge what should be done in the situation. Hopefully, knowing who I was, John wouldn't be too harsh. Maybe if I acted like I was the victim he'd go easier on me than Sherlock? He had known me longer after all.

"But John he's being mean to me." I replied pouting at him as if I were a couple of years younger.   
"Now who's the one acting like a child?" John said, a smile on his face as I thought back to our previous conversation.

"It's not my fault, Sherlock started it." I pouted, pointing towards Sherlock.

"Oh, so your blaming it on me now?!" He yelled in surprise, staring at me with a glare that could melt steel. He thought he was so innocent with his adorable baby blue eyes and his mature attitude when he was not even close to innocence he was the one trying to tell people what to do and how to live their lives! Sherlock was more at fault here than anyone!

"That's it! Abrielle apologize to Sherlock." John demanded, looking at us both in exasperation.

"But I didn't do anything John." I whined, stomping my foot like a disobedient toddler. I wasn't going to give in that easily, no way! Sherlock deserved it!

"Apologize, now." John replied sternly looking at me in disdain. He was upset with me. I'd made John upset with me and I literally just been reunited with him! That was a new world record. I'd just upset the one person I actually cared about in the world. I needed to end this, not for me or for the bastard that went by the name of Sherlock, but for John.

"Ugh. Fine. Sorry I'm not sorry." I replied a small smirk on my lips. He said I needed to apologize but he didn't say I had to be sincere.

"Apologize for real Abrielle." John said, sighing.

"I'm sorry that you freaked out when I defended my rights." I mumbled, a small smirk stretching across my lips as the scene played out in my head.

"Actually, no I'm really not sorry, that was freaking hilarious." I added on, remembering Sherlock's appalled expression from when he questioned why I had told him no. It was priceless! People needed to tell him no more often, not just for the good of others but for the good of me when I video record his facial expression. I really needed that video.

"Stop it Bree. Seriously, you need to apologize." John snapped at me, giving me a frown as his eyes glared at me in disappointment. I knew that I had to apologize for John, but did I really have to agree to it so quickly? I was a defiant arse, I had an image to protect.

"No." I growled, stomping my feet and crossing my arms as I glared at the wall in front of me.

"I'll say it if I have to." John said to my back, a small smile pulling up on the sides of my face. Yes John knew my weakness. And yes, he knew he could use it in this situation to make me apologize. And he knew it would work if he tried. But he wouldn't do it, not in public at least. He wasn't that kind of guy, he was a kind person with a kind heart, not some kind of heartless bastard like Sherlock. He was too much of a wussy to do something like that.

"You wouldn't, trust me." I said in assuringly, so sure of myself as a huge smile rested on my lips.

"Abrielle L-" John started, only to be cut off by my hand forcefully finding it's way to his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so desperately sorry." I replied in a rushed tone, the smile that had previously been on my face now pulling into a frown. He had almost done it ... he almost had told the whole world all for some stupid apology. Either the army had made him more confident of himself or living with Sherlock Holmes has started to rub off on him. I didn't know how or what, but somehow John had changed. He was different than the brother that had taken care of me when I was little, more cockier than normal ... and to be quite honest it scared me.

As if he had had enough John peeled my perfectly manicured hands away from his mouth and turned to where Sherlock now stood with a confused frown on his face.

"That's better. Now Sherlock, please ask my sister nicely to come with us." John demanded of the man, victory shining in John's eyes.

"Why should I?" Sherlock questioned, composing himself from whatever had made him curious.

"Because if you don't you can forget about going on another case ever again." John answered, looking at Sherlock with confidence. He knew Sherlock, and I bet all the money in the world that he knew his weaknesses too, Sherlock's case inventory being one of them.

"How are you going to make that happen?" Sherlock inquired, raising his eyebrow in disbelievement.

"I'll tell Lestrade that you are on probation until you can politely talk to my sister." John shot back, a glow of what only could be victory shining in his eyes.

"Fine. Abrielle, would you like to accompany us to the bank?" Sherlock inquired in a tone that was obviously sarcastic. Rolling his eyes as the utter idiocy of his question.

"Nah, I'll just stay here and unpack." I replied, waving off his question just to spite him. He was a arse and he deserved it, simple as that. Besides, I really did need to unpack, so it wasn't like I was lying or anything just for the fun of it.

"Nope, sorry, you aren't. That was rude." John replied dragging my hand as he lead me out of the flat.

"So, I'm always rude, it's what I do. I'm a rude person." I replied, rolling my eyes at John's behavior. Great, no unpacking for me then. Stupid John, and his stupid social ideas.

"Yeah, well I didn't get you two to act nice to eachother for no reason. You're coming and that's that." John stated, gripping my hand tighter as he lead me out into the chilly London air. It was as if he thought I'd run away or something! Well, I could if I wanted to ... in fact I probably would have, but gripping my hand tighter would do nothing to stop me.

"Fine, if I have to. But I don't have to be happy about it." I said pulling my hands out of John's grip and stomping off, grimacing at the idea of going to the bank with Sherlock and John. I knew Sherlock, and it wasn't ever something as simple as going to the bank, there was always a catch. I highly doubted that Sherlock was just going to the bank to go to the bank. There was always something more, and this time I knew, I just knew that Sherlock Holmes was on a case, which secretly pleased me. Yes, I'm aware that I threw a whole temper tantrum so I didn't have to go, but in reality I was delighted to go on an adventure. Even if I'd never admit it out loud; I bloody loved cases, and the ones with Sherlock Holmes were always the fun ones! I was going to go on this case and I was going to enjoy it, even if I was pouting like a two year old on the outside.

"Oh yeah, and Bree?" John questioned, pulling me deep out my thoughts.

"What is it now?" I growled impatiently, turning on my heel to look back at him.

"I forgot to tell you something before." John replied, his tone very much serious and his lips set into a thin line.

"Out with it." I said sighing, expecting him to tell me something that must be important from the look of his face.

"Welcome back to London." He replied, laughing his head off as my eyes widened in appalment.

"It's great to be back." I yelled, rolling my eyes at my brother as I stalked off in the direction I had previously been walking, my thoughts running through every possible way I could kill my brother and hide the body without anyone finding out.   


	3. Sebastian is Code For A-Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

After an extremely tedious walk to the bank with John mostly making sure that me and Sherlock behaved, we finally made it to Tower 42, Old Broad Street in other words Shad Sanderson Bank. I walked happily through the revolving glass doors, my spirits instantly rising. I loved revolving doors! They were just so FUN! It was like a merry go round and a mirror all at once! In fact, during the summers when John and I were bored out of our minds we would play games in the revolving doors that were attached to the shop down the street from us. My favorite was always tag when we would run around in circles for hours until I ran out of breath or until John caught me. It was always so fun playing with John. And now seeing these revolving doors it brought back memories of the times I had had with him. Speaking of John, I looked at him, watching as his eyes widened at the interior of the bank, his jaw dropping to the floor as he got a better look at how fancy the bank truly was.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank ..." He exclaimed in awe, looking around him as if this was the most amazing place in the world.

"Yes John he meant Sanderson Bank. Did you really expect Sherlock Holmes to go to any old bank?" I questioned, smiling at my brother's reaction. He was acting like he was at buckingham palace or something. The Sanderson bank wasn't that amazing. It was just a bank.

"It's just ..." John started, not able to even form a full sentence. It was like he was in shock or something. What was the big deal, a bank is a bank. Yes, Sanderson bank is a really famous bank for a lot of rich investors. But that wasn't a reason to totally flip out and go into shock!

"Calm down John. It's a bank like any other bank. It's not like you're meeting the bloody queen or anything." I assured John, biting my lip as to not burst out laughing. It was hilarious watching my brother act like a total loon, it was like he was on drugs or something. Everything was rainbows and cupcakes to him, so new and so exciting. Nothing was ever boring to him, which was perhaps both a good thing and a bad thing.

"Yeah." John sighed in embarrassment, meekly following behind me as Sherlock lead us to our destination. We walked into a huge spacey room that seemed to me to be somewhat of a waiting room, the walls were lined with photos and magazines were scattered every which way. In fact, A secretary was even sitting at a desk in the corner typing away at a keyboard with her perfectly styled red nails. Sherlock rolled his eyes, and walked straight past the secretary and into the office on the opposite side of the room, John and I quickly following him in and shutting the door quietly behind us. Another man walking in not too long after.

"Sherlock Holmes." The man stated, looking at Sherlock in what only be described as hatred. This guy knew Sherlock, that was evident from how he had recognized him. And it was quite obvious that he hated Sherlock for some reason or another. To be honest who didn't hate Sherlock, all the man seemed to do was make people mad at him! It was no surprise that this man seemed to dislike him as well. The question was who was this man? Just by the look of him he looked like a cocky know-it-all. Shouldn't him and Sherlock be great friends at this point? They were after all a perfect match for each other. What did Sherlock ever do to make this guy hate him so much.

"Sebastian." Sherlock replied back, begrudgingly shaking the man's hand.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian greeted, giving him one of the fakest smiles I have ever seen in my life. Eight years ago, Sherlock was most likely in his late teens or early twenties ... so does that mean that this was one of his friends from Uni? No, it couldn't be. Sebastian very much hated Sherlock, and from the look of Sherlock's scowl, Sherlock disliked Sebastian as well. Which could only mean that they were more enemies than friends. Right?

"This is my friend, John Watson." Sherlock explained, gesturing towards John, his eyes unfocused as if he was distracted for some reason.

"Right." Sebastian stated in disbelievement, glancing over quickly at me. His eyes lit up, staring at me like a killer would stare at his next victim. This guy was a perv no doubt about it. A creepy, disgusting perv that looked at girls like a possession or prize to be won, more so than an actual living breathing human being.

"And who is this?" Sebastian asked flirtily, eyeing me up and down, focusing on my breasts a lot longer than he should've. I wanted to knee him in the nuts so bad at that moment, but I knew I couldn't risk getting Sherlock kicked off this case. Besides, I wanted to participate in this case, not watch from behind bars. So instead of acting on impulse I took a deep breath, composing myself so I didn't do anything too harmful to him.

"Abrielle Watson, hi." I replied coldly, glaring at him with as much hatred as I could muster.

"Pleasure to meet you Ms. Watson. What is a beauty like you doing around two gentlemen like these?" Sebastian questioned, staring at me with a hungry smile, his eyes very much lustful as he stared at my body.

"John is my brother, obviously. If you took the time to actually listen rather than ogling me like I'm a piece of meat maybe you'd have figured that out yourself." I bit out, staring him down with an icy fire burning in my eyes. Sebastian raised his eyebrows staring at me with a gaze of curiosity at my rude comment, whilst Sherlock laughed behind me a tiny smile stretching across his lips.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry for my sister's behavior. Abrielle behave." John scolded, looking at me, appalled at my behavior. Yeah, sure apologize to the pervert that's trying to get it on with your little sister. Because you know, that's the smart thing to do of course.

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot." Sherlock stated, trying his best to defuse the tension in the room.

"Well, some." Sebastian replied nonchalantly, looking at Sherlock as if he were bored out of his mind.

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" Sherlock deduced, looking towards Sebastian in curiosity.

"Right. You're doing that thing." Sebastian said in laughter, pointing at Sherlock like he had said the funniest joke ever. He glanced at me hungrily, not even fazed by my glare as he began to explain why Sherlock's deduction was so hilarious.

"We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do." Sebastian stated, confirming my earlier hypothesis. So they went to Uni together and they hated each other, either Sherlock did something to make sebastian loathe him, or Sebastian was simply a jerk that picked on Sherlock because he was jealous. I was betting on the second one, which meant I'd need to give this bully a taste of his own medicine. No one should have to deal with bullying, not in school, or in college, or even at work. Sebastian was the lowest of the low, and he'd soon learn not to mess with her ... especially when she was cross. He'd learn alright, he'd learn.

"It's not a trick." Sherlock replied quietly, looking down as if the one comment had rendered him unable to answer. He looked so alone, and it was slowly killing me inside. I was once the child that was constantly bullied by the neighbors and laughed at for being different. I understood how Sherlock felt, and no one, especially not Sherlock deserved to feel that way.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story." Sebastian said to me, glancing away from me for the quickest of seconds and looking to my brother instead.

"Yes, I've seen him do it." John replied, looking at Sebastian with a small smile, oblivious to the pain that Sebastian was inflicting on Sherlock. He saw the innocent Sebastian, the man that was a polite business man that used to be an acquaintance of Sherlock's. He was the optimist, someone that only saw the mask instead of the true person underneath. I on the other hand, being the very negative person I was, saw the whole truth. The way he smiled at John with the fakest of smiles, and stared at me in hunger, wanting nothing more than to get in my pants. And of course the malice glares that he sent Sherlock, causing Sherlock to break just the tiniest bit. If you were John you would look at Sherlock, and see something akin to boredness. But if you were me, you'd see just how truly alone he actually felt. Sebastian was hurting him, and was most likely bringing back some very unwanted memories. The only difference was unlike when he was at Uni, with no friends and no one to help him, this time someone would have his back. This time I would help.

"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him. You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night." Sebastian said with a laugh, reminiscing about the past. I gritted my teeth trying my best not to just kill him right here and right now. Yes, Sherlock was abnormal. But he was unique and special in his own way with his own amazing talents. No one should be judged just because of their differences, in fact no one should be judged at all! It was time that this bully understood what it was like to feel insecure. No one was allowed to hurt Sherlock! Not because of his intelligence, and certainly not because of his personality!

"This coming from a man who can't keep a girlfriend, has no friends whatsoever, and looks at women as if their your next meal instead of people that can think for themselves. From the minute you looked at me you haven't done anything but hungrily glance at me. If anything you're the freak around here. Sherlock is smart and you couldn't ever amount up to him no matter how hard you tried. So I'd stop insulting the one person capable of helping you." I bit out, ending my ramble with small smile. I glanced at Sherlock, all traces of sadness long gone, replaced by a brilliant smile. Sherlock was alright now, and that's all that mattered. He wasn't going to be bothered by Sebastian ever again, and that I was sure of.

"We've had a break-in." Sebastian stated quickly, his cheeks now red from embarrassment. That's right, he should be embarrassed! He got what he deserved, justice was served and my work was done here. I was ready for a case now, I was ready for the thrill of the chase and the fun of the adventure. I was ready to catch a killer, or thief, or anything in between. The game was on, and I was ready to win!   


	4. I'm A Queen Not A Pawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

A  few minutes later, not long after my angry outburst, we were lead out to the trading floor to a room filled to the brim with large fancy portraits of some man in a tuxedo. I looked around, my eyes soaking in everything and anything as I tried to deduced what had happened. Going from the wideness of the room, and the fancy decorations, whoever worked in this office had a higher up position. And after simply glancing at his possessions he earned a lot of of money too, which was evident from the expensive computer sitting on the desk. It wasn't a computer from the company, because the company computers all had the bank logo on it and the computer sitting here did not, so it was a personal computer. After looking at the barren atmosphere of the room I concluded that the person that had formerly worked in this office was also very much deceased. The door had been locked and the shades on the widows drawn as if this room was to be forgotten. Also, the door had been stiff when it had been opened, whereas the other doors around here slid open with ease as if they were oiled daily. This meant that this specific door and this door alone hadn't been open in a long while. All of the facts coming together to back up the fact that whoever worked here was dead, and for a good while too.

"Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night." Sebastian explained, looking around the room with an upset frown. It was almost as if he were sad that someone had stolen something from a dead man ... yet I knew his type and I knew that he'd never care. He got the dead man's job, if anything he should be happy that the guy was long gone. He was a bloody amazing actor when he wanted to be, I'll give him that.

"What did they steal?" John questioned, looking around the room.

"Nothing. Just left a little message." Sebastian stated, showing them the graffiti painted across the wall and on one of the pictures. It looked Chinese, possibly Japanese ... maybe a secret code of some sort? It couldn't simply be a delinquent coming in here and showing off their graffiti skills, it was something more ... there was a hidden meaning, which meant that this was done by a professional, someone who knew what they were doing. Not just some kid. The question was, why call the great Sherlock Holmes down to investigate it?

"So you called us down here to find out who did it." I stated, smirking at Sebastian, a small tinge of red resting on Sebastian's cheeks. Stupid bankers and their stupid ideas. All they called Sherlock down here for was to find out who splashed some paint around in a dead man's office. No murderer, no thief. Something so simple even a goldfish could solve it! Stupid Sebastian, stupid simple human beings and wasting my time.

"Yes Ms. Watson." Sebastian replied, not even strong enough to even look me in the eyes anymore. He knew I could and would hurt his ego if he ever made me mad again, and keeping his distance was the best form of action which was why he was so hesitant to talk to me anymore in the first place. He was a bastard that got knocked down a peg or two ... or twenty on the egotistical scale, and now he was weak and vulnerable just like us which was all that really mattered.

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock questioned, not even turning away from the yellow spray paint as he analysed the symbols decorating the wall.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting. Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged, if any door opened we'd know. Every walk-in cupboard, to every toilet." Sebastian replied in a very matter of fact way, his confidence seeming to come back with every second that he talked.

"And that door didn't open last night." Sherlock concluded, glancing over to Sebastian with his own type of confidence. He was in his element right now, it was as obvious as the nose on my face. He was enjoying being the smartest person in the room, he enjoyed the thrill of a new case and the fun of the mystery just like I liked the adventure and the fun of the chase. The blood pumping through your veins as you tested your life against another's. Like I said before, this is a game ... a game where only one person came out alive and so far I had won. Just like Sherlock. In reality, no matter how much I didn't want to admit it I was just like Sherlock and Sherlock was just like me. We were the same and yet we were different. We both saw that the graffiti was a code just as we both knew that just because the door to Sir William's office hadn't been opened didn't mean that the intruder hadn't come in another way.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures." Sebastian stated, pulling out a cheque from the pocket of his jacket.

"This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way." He said, holding out the cheque towards Sherlock. Why did he think that our service could be bought with some high sum of money? We wouldn't be bought off, no way no how! I'm sure Sherlock would agree with me when I say that money is just a piece of paper with nothing but debt attached to it. I don't need money, and I'm sure Sherlock doesn't either. He does the cases for the fun of it, not for the reward that comes afterwards.

"We don't need your money Mr. Wilkes. We'll figure out who did it, but not for the money." I replied, looking at Sebastian with a condescending smirk. That felt great! I loved making people feel like shit, especially A-holes like Sebastian. Besides he really did need to have his ego shoved down the toilet just a little more, so I was more than happy to yell at him more than I already had, it felt amazing! In fact, I could fly to the moon if I wanted. God making people feel bad was so refreshing. I honestly forgot just how good it felt till now! Sebastian should know better anyways ... handing away his money like some loon. I gave Sherlock a small smirk and swaggered off to investigate, my ears barely picking up the smug reply Sherlock gave Sebastian.

"I agree with Abrielle, I don't need an incentive Sebastian." I heard him say, my smile immediately getting wider as I walked further away from them. Sherlock not only agreed with me, which was amazing considering he hated agreeing with others. But he also stood up to his college bully, and without my help too! I couldn't help but think him flawless now, he was unstoppable, he was on fire, nothing could stop him. Well ... unless John got kidnapped of course. That was his one other weakness, his friends. Yet Sherlock used it as his strength, something to keep him fighting. Which was something I had yet to learn.

______________________________________________________________________________

About ten minutes later after my long walk through the building, I decided to head back to Sir William's office, my feet walking giddily through the hordes of bankers and tradesmen coming in for work as I finally arrived at the door of Sir William's office, where we had been before. I walked in, my face almost lighting up with a small smirk as I watched Sherlock photograph the strange symbols. He looked so focused, so utterly set on finding out who had painted them that to me it seemed like nothing else in the world mattered to him. It was so exciting to see him work, to know that there was a mystery on hand and a case that needed solving, which was something she most certainly enjoyed!

"So what do you think?" I questioned him, looking towards him with interest as he stared at his tiny phone.

"About what?" He asked, not even glancing up to acknowledge that I was here.

"About this case, obviously." I stated, rolling my eyes at his idiocy. For someone that was a complete genius he could be pretty thick at times it seemed. He was so intelligent yet so stupid at the same time. It was like he was a computer, he gave you very scientific answers on things, yet he couldn't follow the simplest of sentences.

"You wouldn't understand." He replied, looking at me like I was a child in a classroom. It was so annoying how he looked at me like a child, something that couldn't ever threaten his intelligence or amount up to him in any way. Well he was wrong, I was a genius and I'd prove it to him.

"Try me." I challenged, my signature glare staring bullets into his eyes as I dared him to tell me no. No one told me no, everyone knew that and he knew that I'd break him if he even tried. I hurt Sebastian's ego and I could do exactly the same to Sherlock if he so pleased.

"This was a warning. I don't know what it means, or who it's for. But it's a warning." Sherlock explained, looking towards the art on the wall once more. I raised my eyebrows at him looking at him in surprise. Really, after all of that all he had figured out that it was warning? A goldfish could have told you that, if it was left here it was left here for a reason, it meant danger, and death not smiley faces and love for crying out loud!

"How about you let me have a go." I said, smirking at him as I crossed my arms and cocked my hip to the side in a sassy manner.

"Oh don't be silly, I'd rather not waste time in letting an idiot like you try to figure out more than I have. Especially someone in your line of work with no experience whatsoever." He stated, rolling his eyes at me, looking at me like I was a crazy wannabe, that wished of being smart, when in reality I was the smartest of the smart like him.

"Oh really. Well there's no harm in letting me try is there then?" I questioned, looking at him the same way he looked at me. Two could play at that game Sherlock. Just because you thought I was an idiot didn't mean I was.

"Like I said, I'd rather not waste time." He replied, turning around to look at the painting in peace. He thought that he had gotten his way and that the argument was over, when that was a far cry from the truth. I didn't give people their way just because they simply quit the conversation, oh, no,no that's when I fought my hardest.

"Oh just bear with me." I said to his back sarcastically, trying my best not to strangle him as I looked for clues. I opened the door to the balcony, my eyes looking around me and absorbing my surroundings like a sponge. I stepped out onto the balcony looking out at the amazing site below me. We were very high up, yet there was no other way the intruder could have come in. You know the old joke, how did the intruder get into the bank? Well duh, it got intruder widow. Or balcony in this case, but that counted as a window, didn't it? After looking out at the view one last time I went out to where all the people sat at cubicles, busily working out trades and such. I walked around trying my best to figure out exactly who the message was meant for. It had to be someone that could see the painting, otherwise painting it in that exact spot was pointless, I walked around the cubicles, until finally I found the one place in the whole office that could easily show both symbols the clearest, and after looking around the area I finally found the name of the recipient and grabbed it, heading back to Sherlock to share my discoveries.

"That warning was meant for an Edward Van Coon, and the person that left it for him was an expert in gymnastics ... someone that can scale buildings quickly and jump across roofs." I stated smugly, my crystal eyes brightening up considerably now that I could finally put a stop to Sherlock's rude behavior. I was sick and tired of him just assuming that he was smarter than everyone and everything. It was sooooooo annoying! It was time to set him straight.

"How in the world did you know that?" Sherlock questioned, staring at me in appalment.

"Well, Edward Van Coon was the only one that could have clearly seen the graffiti from his office. Also, he was a trader for Hong Kong that means that he comes in at strange times during the night, which was around the time that the graffiti was placed there. As for who placed the graffiti there, he had to be able to scale the building because there was no other way to get into the building, and then he had to escape the same way, which means that he had to jump across rooftops, because we already know that the man that placed it there had to have used the balcony since there was no other way to get out without getting caught." I explained, ending my ramble with a huge smile.

"Why a man? It could be a woman?" He inquired looking at me, curious of my abilities. Yeah, yeah I know I never really outright showed that I was smart, but I was, and if the only way to prove to him that I was a genius, and not a child was to show my intelligence then that was alright, okay with me! It just meant that I'd totally get to show him up and make him look like a fool, which didn't seem half bad to me!

"You already know it's a man, so why would I need to explain it?" I asked, my smile immediately turning into a poker face. He wanted to challenge me ... so a challenge I would be. I was going to be complicated, and mysterious and not at all forthright. That would catch the great Sherlock Holmes's eyes that was for sure.

"Just entertain me." Sherlock said, analyzing me. My eyes glazing over and showing no emotion whatsoever. He wanted to see how I'd react to having to deduce something out of nowhere, when the truth was I had secretly already deduced the graffiti  earlier.

"It had to be a man because the writing is distinctly sloppy and quick. A woman would have taken their time and made it readable. Other than that, you're looking for someone that has experience in graffiti, it is statistically more likely that it's a man because there are more male graffiti artists than female. So you're looking for a man." I replied, looking up at him with so much power that I felt like a queen.

"How could you possibly be able to do that?" Sherlock inquired, looking at me as if I were a puzzle he needed to solve.

"You'd be surprised Mr. Holmes. There is more expertise in this sort of thing within my field than you'd believe." I replied, a small smirk crawling up on my lips. He had no idea what my life was like, no idea at all.

"But you're merely a writer!" He exclaimed his eyes widening at my newly showed skill.

"Don't judge a book by it's cover. A writer can become many things while writing a story, in fact the real disguise behind a good fiction is a genius author. I'll be going now." I replied leaving the room with a smile on my face and a swag in my step. My ears once again picking up Sherlock's reply as I exited the office.

"Interesting." He whispered, my smile widening as I left the building. I had made an impression on the great Sherlock Holmes and made him question everything ... I knew deep in my heart that I had won this round. It was Sherlock's move in the game of life, but even I knew he'd never figure me out not even if he tried. I'd captured his king and left him stranded without a lifeboat on a desert island. This was my game, and like I said, I never lost.  


	5. The Detective, The Doctor, and The Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

** JOHN' ** ** S POV **

About ten minutes later, after Bree and Sherlock had stomped off rather pompously, I saw Bree walking down the stairs towards the doors. That either meant that Sherlock had figured out who had spray painted the graffitti, Sherlock had made her cross, or Bree had gotten bored. So basically, nothing good was bound to happen. I swear Bree and Sherlock would be the end of me, they were always so dramatic and it was really starting to put a toll on me. All they did was run around bothering the people around them, it made no sense at all! They were like bloody children! It was annoying, but I'd learned to live with it, after all one was my sister and the other was my best friend. There wasn't really any way of getting away from that. Besides, they needed me, without me they would have been dead a long time ago. Abrielle was just so reckless and Sherlock was just as danger prone, wherever they went danger followed. If Sherlock hadn't met him he would have been dead the moment he followed that cab driver. And Abrielle would have died at the age of fourteen when she had decided to set that plastic bottle on fire. It was with my help that I stopped the nonsense that was her boredom and stopped her from setting a house on fire, trapping her inside it. I was their guide, someone that lead them out of danger. Yet, dear god I felt like their bloody mother sometimes! They were young and dumb, though, don't let Sherlock know I told you that he'd flip. I knew they didn't mean to but sometimes they left me behind like today for instance. It was like I hardly mattered at all to them, like I was just another idiotic human being. Yes, I wasn't Sherlock Holmes smart, or even Bree smart, but at least I can tell when someone is hurt. I was a Doctor, I knew things. Yet, they treated me like the lowest of the low. And it really pushed my buttons! Just because you weren't a genius didn't mean you needed to be treated like a school child! It was like they were mocking me when they left me behind, just rubbing in the fact that they were superior to me. I wanted to help at times such as these yet I was left behind to stand around and do absolutely nothing until they felt like showing up. 

Alright, rant over now. I feel much better after all of that. Sherlock and Bree really pushed me to the limit and having a little rant to pass the time was always entertaining enough. Yeah, I got cross, but I didn't really feel that way about them. That was just the anger talking, no really, I loved them both so much. They were my family, my genius little sister and my sociopathic best friend. Speaking of Sherlock, and his sociopathic tendencies here he was now, a very curious frown set plainly on his lips. He was confused which was never a good sign, something happened, and I was going to figure it out eventually. I wasn't a genius, but I was smart ... at least I thought I was.

"Abrielle's outside waiting for us." I said to the detective, looking over towards the windows where Bree stood outside leaning against the glass wall. Something happened between the two that much was obvious. The question was what?

"Interesting." Sherlock stated, his eyes glazed over in thought as he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular.

"She was smiling about something ... what did you do?" I inquired immediately assuming that Sherlock had done something to make her smile like an idiot. He obviously hadn't fallen out a window like she had formerly wanted, as he was right here in front of me, so what else could have happened to cause Abrielle to smile that much. When she was little she never smiled, NEVER. In fact I don't think she has ever smiled more in her entire life then she had been smiling since her arrival. For some reason or another, Sherlock made her smile, the real mystery was what was he doing that was so entertaining?

"Interesting." Sherlock stated again, not even moving from his previous position to make eye contact with me. Something was wrong with Sherlock, that didn't even make sense as an actual reply. He was repeating himself as if he was thinking of something, perhaps he wasn't even listening to me. Something was bothering Sherlock, and somehow for some reason Bree found it funny. I had no idea what, why, or how. But I knew Sherlock was the cause of it all, and whatever he had done to make himself confused and Bree happy.

"Um, did I miss something?" I questioned, looking at him with a raise of my eyebrows, hoping that he'd tell me if I asked.

"Nothing happened. That's one interesting sister you have there." He said finally snapping out of his gaze, to look me in the eyes.

"Are you alright? Did she break you? Why do you keep saying the word interesting?" I asked, trying to figure out why in the world my sister could ever be interesting to the amazing Sherlock Holmes. She was plain, well as plain as an eccentric genius could be. She was just like me, there wasn't anything overly exciting about her that could intrigue Sherlock, not at all! So what was the fuss all about?

"I'm fine John. In fact I'm brilliant." He said, a huge smile resting on his face.

"Ok, my sister did something, because this is not the Sherlock I know." I replied, looking at Sherlock with the tiniest bit of worry. I think my sister honest to god broke him. He was too cheerful, and too distracted. Something happened in that room, and the result was a human Sherlock, who'd have thought that all I needed to do to humanize Sherlock Holmes was bring my sister over to the flat. If I had known that I would have invited Bree to stay with us much sooner than I had. No, yeah, no I wouldn't have Sherlock was great the way he was. No matter how rude and prickish he may seem. Yet here he was acting like a ray of sunshine, and no one but my sister to blame. What could she have possibly done to change Sherlock into this joyful mess?

"Your sister isn't ordinary John. She isn't boring! This is fantastic!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in joy as he did a little jump up in the air.

"Alright ... um, I'm lost. Why is that a good thing?" I replied, looking at him in total and utter confusion. Why was my sister 'not being boring' such a good thing, even I could tell you that, it wasn't that hard to figure out. She loved adventures and experiments, and looking at dead things. Nobody that was sane could ever like that kind of stuff, yes Bree wasn't normal, so what? Shouldn't he have known that by now?

"She's a genius, John. She isn't an idiot, she's a mystery, John! Someone with secrets that I get to figure out! Oh, I like her!" He stated, looking at me with the widest smile he could possibly muster. Abrielle was certainly a genius, I mean she ran around reciting the periodic table and the greek alphabet at the age of six. She was the smartest of the smart, and not even Sherlock Holmes, another one of the smartest people in the world, could figure that out himself? Sherlock was getting slow, that was for sure.

"Glad to know that you found yourself a playmate, now can we leave?" I asked, very much bored of the now dull conversation. Abrielle was a genius, she was happy, nothing was new. Just because Sherlock was confused of the not so new information, meant absolutely nothing to me. I was ready to go back to the flat, and after looking outside, i was clear that Abrielle did too. And no one made her wait. Making Bree wait for a long time, meant hell for whoever caused the wait. I knew that from experience and from the the not so relaxing holiday that we took to Disney world when she had been seventeen. After waiting for two hours to get on the same ride she finally snapped and ended up getting us kicked out. She hated waiting, and there was no way in hell that I wanted to be on the bad side of her, therefore we leave now and maybe she won't try to break any of our limbs.

"Fine, if you insist." Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes at me. Rushing past me as I neared the door. We walked out, Abrielle glancing up at us as we did with the widest of smiles. It was almost like she enjoyed our company, which was odd because she hated social interaction. She was alright with it for a little bit, but after a while she got antsy. It was like she didn't mind being around Sherlock, which I didn't know if I that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Ah, you finally decided to make an appearance." Abrielle replied cockily, her crystal eyes lighting up at my small scowl. Yes, she was being annoying, so naturally I frowned at her.

"Sorry for the long wait Bree. Sherlock here was busy fangirling over the fact that you're a genius apparently." I explained, gesturing my head towards the bemused detective.

"Oh really. Glad to know that I've made an impression." She said, giving Sherlock a playful smirk.

"Oh trust me, you've done more than just that Miss. Watson." Sherlock replied, giving Abrielle the briefest of smiles.

"Wow, I'm flattered Mr. Holmes." Bree exclaimed, fanning her hand on her face playfully as if she were holding a fan.

"Can someone please explain what is going on? A half an hour ago you couldn't even be in the same room without arguing with each other, and now my sister is one of the best things in the world!" I stated, jumping into the flirty conversation. About thirty minutes ago they couldn't stand each other, and now they were flirting?! What was wrong with them? What happened in that room that could cause them to react in such a way? Sherlock better not have kissed her or something stupid like that, because if he did I swear to god I would kill him! If it wasn't a kiss, and hopefully it wasn't, then what was it?

"Nothing much happened, I totally proved that I'm smarter than Sherlock, and solved part of the graffiti mystery. But other than that you didn't really miss much." Abrielle explained to me, sighing dramatically in boredom. Abrielle was always the drama queen, that much never changed. She was always the actor, the person to have a fit to make a point, or pretend to be hurt to get out of trouble. In fact I remember her walking into my room one night after dinner when she was around four and I was around nine, and she said quite simply that she had taught herself to fake cry and that if I ever tried to tell mum she'd use it against me. Four year old Abrielle was a scary Abrielle. I didn't get away with anything after that, it always one fake sob after another. Abrielle and her drama, that's how it always was and that how it would always be.

"Show off." Sherlock mumbled, only further proving my statement right. Abrielle and her drama filled tendencies.

"Why thank you, I certainly try." Abrielle replied, giving us a mock curtsy.

"So wait ... you solved the case?" I questioned looking at her as she raised from her previous position, looking at her in confusion. The whole case? And in under an hour too! That was a new record, she even beat Sherlock's record of fifty two minutes and seven seconds! That was fantastic! Yes, it was show offy and very much dramatic, but it was amazing all the same. My own sister beating Sherlock Holmes at his own game! I never thought I'd see the day!

"No, she solved **some** of the case. And clearly it was nothing of importance." Sherlock corrected, looking at Abrielle with what could only be placed as jealousy.

"Yep, sure, nothing of significance my arse. I figured out who the message was intended for, how the intruder got into the building, and the general jobs and make up of both people, while you just stood there like a statue and did absolutely nothing." Abrielle explained, looking at him with a somewhat amused expression on her face. My sister, the spoiled princess that turned into a manipulative, demanding queen. There you go ladies and gentlemen, no more needed to be said.

"Alright, so what did you come up with?" I questioned, looking at my little sister in curiousity.

"It was intended for a Mr. Van Coon, which means if we can find this poor guy he'll most likely lead us straight to the intruder." Abrielle stated, looking at me in a very serious, very said and done way. Sherlock may be the brains of our little gang,and I may be the Doctor, but Abrielle was our queen. The person who told others what was what and how to do it no exceptions. She was intelligent and cunning and fit to rule the world. She was our queen and there was no saying no to her ever. That was that, no questions asked.

"So, is that where we're going next ... to Van Coon's house I mean." I asked, looking at her expectantly as if waiting for orders.

"Yep. There aren't many Van Coon's in the phonebook which means it should take us a good five or ten minutes to get there." Bree replied, explaining the situation to me quickly and efficiently, walking quickly back the way we came. Abrielle was at the top of her game, and there was no doubt that they'd find who did this and quickly with her help. I loved having Bree back it was like old times all over again, except this time I'd win this little sibling rivalry of ours. This time I'd beat her at her own game, and this time I'd win!  


	6. The Entertaining Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

**_ ABRIELLE'S POV _ **

After a very short walk, not more than six minutes later we stood in front of a block of flats. While we had been walking I had taken the liberty of looking up Van Coon's address on my phone, because I'm the very smart person I was had a whitepages app on my phone. And of course, since the internet is rarely wrong I got the address and lead us here, the exact place we would find Van Coon ... If he was still at his home of course. You never really knew considering he was after all the victim that was being threatened. He could be a million miles away and in hiding, or he could be captured by the people who threatened him. Only a complete and utter idiot would choose to go straight home when their life was on the line. Though, knowing Van Coon's type it was quite a possibility that he had in fact chosen to stay at his flat. After all he was an idiotic man. Men were just idiots when it came to most things, they didn't take hints, they spaced out like half the time, and they never listened! It was like talking to a brick wall! That's why I never really enjoyed relationships, they always ended up with me breaking the guy's nose, or me getting my heart broken. Either way, men were just annoying creatures placed on Earth to irritate the heck out of us women. That's why I never really saw myself ever really getting married. You know how all those girls grew up dreaming about the perfect wedding? Well I wasn't one of them. I was busy thinking about how long it took blood to dissipate at 375 degrees Fahrenheit, or how long it took a corpse to rot in the summer sun. I wasn't fixated on weddings, and dear god I'm glad that I wasn't. If you thought dating wasn't my thing, well weddings were worse. At Harry's wedding I ended up chasing after a murderer and ripping my dress to shreds in the middle of the ceremony! Imagine what my wedding would be like! It would end up being a disaster! Yeah, no, I'm NOT a wedding girl. That's why I never really thought about weddings, because honestly I didn't think I'd ever fall in love let alone get married. Besides who'd ever want to marry me, I was rude, sarcastic, demanding, dramatic and worst of all manipulative. No one  in their right mind would ever end up marrying me, it just wouldn't happen. I was too broken, too uniquely different to ever be loved. I was destined to be alone, and alone would protect me. I snapped out of my thoughts, watching as Sherlock pressed the door buzzer, his perfect eyes glancing up towards the security camera not long after. Wait what am I saying ... Perfect eyes?! Am I going freaking insane! His eyes weren't perfect they were too calculating, and piercing, and so perfectly turquoise you could just get lost in them. Oh, and the way he looked when he was thinking, it was just adorable. Sherlock was just so cute in fact I'd go as far as saying he was hot and he knew it. Wait, what am I saying ... Okay, I'm losing it. I'm talking about him as if ... No, that's silly I can't be. But it's the only explanation. I'm talking about him as if I'm in love with him, but I can't be! I've only just met him this morning for crying out loud! You can't fall in love after just one day! That isn't how it works! It's that stupid talk about weddings that's all. Yeah, I'm just thinking about stupid weddings too much. I'm not in love. I'm not, there is no chance at all. Besides, me and Sherlock were at each other's throats a few hours ago... we absolutely hated each other! No, no, no but what was that flirty conversation I had with him outside of the bank? A mutual understanding of one another ... A friendship of some kind? It wasn't actually flirting. Something was just wrong with me at the moment, the feeling would pass, it always did.

"So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John questioned, making me jump from fright after being snapped out my deep thoughts. Yes, we wait here in the middle of the sidewalk for a victim that could be dead for all we know. Amazing idea John, just bloody fantastic. Of course we don't just stand here and wait, we find our own way into the man's flat. I stood there and watched in fascination as Sherlock did exactly that. He walked back a few paces and looked up at the building, my eyes analyzing his every move. He came back to us, a wide smile set on his lips in a triumph smirk. He knew something, and that something was going to get us into the flat.

"Just moved in." He stated, pointing at one of the labels in a very matter of fact way.

"What?" John inquired, looking at Sherlock with a very confused expression. It literally hurt my head, to watch his blank eyes look at Sherlock in such a confused manner. It was so simple, yet John had no clue as to what Sherlock was trying to say. To be quite honest it was sad. John and his silly goldfish brain. He was really very smart when he tried, but he was acting like a confused child. He wanted the answer handed to him on a silver platter, in fact he expected it. And he wonders why I treat him condescendingly!

"The floor above Van Coon's there is a new resident which is evident due to the fact that her buzzer has a new label. It wasn't a replacement because the ink is fresh, besides, no one replaces their nametag. It never happens." I explained, showing him the name tag that Sherlock had formerly pointed out to him. I buzzed the little buzzer next to it, hoping with everything I had that whoever lived in that flat was home. That person was their ticket in the building and into Van Coon's flat.

"Hello?" A younger woman's voice questioned through the intercom. Sherlock rushed towards the camera, smiling innocently towards it as if he were a normal harmless everyday human being rather than the detective John and I knew him to be.

"Hi! Um, I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met." He said politely, his eyes looking towards the camera in a kind way. He was different, much different than the Sherlock I knew. Sherlock wasn't nice or kind, and his eyes rarely light up in delightment like they were now. They were usually scowling at me, piercing through my heart and tearing down my soul with just one glance. But seeing Sherlock so nice and kind ... It was just heartwarming. It made my heart miss a beat to see just how different Sherlock could actually be if he tried. I knew he was simply acting, but damn could he act!

"No, well, uh, I've just moved in." The woman stuttered over the intercom, her tone flustered as she explained the situation. I knew she had just moved in I Just knew it. So being the show off I am I shot John a brief 'I told you so' glance. John doing nothing but frowning in annoyance. I looked back towards Sherlock who was now nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat." He stated in faux embarrassment, biting his lip plaintively, as if upset at his blunder.

"D'you want me to buzz you in?" The woman asked, sounding very helpful and kind. She honestly wanted to help, no deceit or bitterness in her voice.

"Yeah. And can I use your balcony?" Sherlock questioned, the tiniest bit of the real Sherlock seeping into his voice.

"What?" The woman questioned, her voice faltering as if deciding whether or not she should actually let Sherlock in. Sherlock was letting his disguise fall apart piece by piece and now we may never get into Van Coon's flat! I needed to act and I needed act fast! So I rushed into action, quickly (and quite forcefully I might add), pushing Sherlock out of the camera's view as I took his place.

"I'm so sorry about my boyfriend, he can be a little strange sometimes." I apologized, whispering the end part as if it was a secret I was trying to hide from him. Wait a second ... Did I just call him my boyfriend? Is that the best I could come up with, really? We looked more like siblings than boyfriend and girlfriend?! I had two seconds to come up with my role and I came up with apologetic girlfriend!? This better bloody work, I'll tell you that much!

"Oh, it's totally fine." The lady in the other side of the intercom assured me with a laugh.

"Whew. I'm glad, he can be a little rude at times, you know how it is." I replied, giving her a huge smile, my eyes sprinkled with joy as I looked up at the camera.

"Yeah. I get it, it's how guys are. The first time I met my boyfriend he had punched me in the face, broke my nose, and somehow asked me out all in the span of five minutes!" She said with a laugh, her voice entertained and very much happy as she told us the story. So, maybe pretending to be Sherlock's girlfriend wasn't so bad of a choice after all. The woman related to it which made it easier to get her on my side.

"Ha! And we wonder why we're still dating them." I said with a bright tinkly laugh, looking towards the camera with a glimmer in my eyes, the sound of the woman laughing with me ringing through the intercom. Okay, me stepping in was definitely a good idea, there was no doubt about it. If I hadn't stepped in everything would have gone to hell, and our opportunity to talk to the victim would have flown out the window. It was all due to me that we may actually have a chance to get into the man's flat.

"Come on up, the kettle's just boiled, and I'm sure you'd love to get out of the cold." The lady said, laughter lacing with her voice as the ring of the buzzer rang from the doors. The doors were unlocked, she had buzzed us in! Now we were guaranteed to get into Van Coon's place! Thank you acting!

"Thanks!" I exclaimed, giving the camera one final smirk before I turned around to see Sherlock smiling at me and John simply staring at me in surprise.

"What in the world was that?" John questioned, looking at me in appalment. Great I had shocked my brother, nice going Bree, great job. Cause that's just what you do after seeing your brother in so long, you show him the part of you that he wasn't ever supposed to see. Bloody fantastic!

"It's called acting, brother mine." I replied smugly, looking at him with a tiny smirk set upon my lips. On the outside I was cool, calm and collected ... But on the inside I was freaking out! What if he figured it out! What he knows my secret, the one part of me I've been trying to keep from him for years! If he knew he'd freak out, especially now! Alright, calm down ... It's fine. John was just a goldfish, he didn't know anything about it. He wasn't that smart, now Sherlock on the other hand. He was a different story. John didn't know and he wouldn't for a while, my secret was safe. I was simply overreacting. My silly head and it's ridiculous thoughts.

"That was a perfect performance, Miss Watson." Sherlock said, stopping me from thinking on the matter any longer.

"In fact it was almost too perfect." He continued, looking at me with the smuggest of smiles. He knew, he bloody knew! I had to throw him off suspicion and quickly. It was the only way to keep him off my tail just a little longer.

"Well, I did work in Hollywood Mr. Holmes. I know how to perfect a role." I explained, looking at Sherlock with the raise of my brow.

"No, that was more than just simply perfecting a role. You're hiding something Abrielle, and I will get to the bottom of it." He replied, his eyes glancing over me in a very analytical way. He was trying to deduce me, and yet he couldn't. Just from the way his eyes twinkled briefly with confusion I knew he couldn't. He was confused, I confused him. He thought everything he had deduced about me the first time he had met me was all he would ever need to know about me, that it was my life. When in reality, what he had deduced hadn't even scratched the surface of who I really was. I was a puzzle that he would never be able to figure out. I was the rubix cube of all rubix cubes and I knew that if he couldn't deduce me now, he'd never figure me out. My secret was safe, and I was one hundred percent positive that it always would be ... Well until I told them myself of course.

"Whatever you say, Sherlock." I replied, strutting away to lean against the door. I was close enough to hear them, and I was keeping the door open with my foot. Win, win situation for me. I don't know how the guys felt, but to me, watching them communicate with each other was hilarious. It was like some reality Tv show! They were just so entertaining! I seriously felt the urge to buy some popcorn and a large coke so I could watch the show in style. Too bad I didn't have any time.

"She is a screenwriter Sherlock, just because she is good at acting doesn't mean that she's keeping something from you." John said, making me smile with delight. Oh that gullible idiot, only if you knew. Only if you knew.

"No she's hiding something. There's something else there." Sherlock said, making my mouth turn up into a pleased smile. Yes I had thrown him off my tail but not for long, Sherlock was smart. He knew that I wasn't really telling the truth.

"Everything doesn't have to be a complicated answer Sherlock, she might just be passionate about her old job." John replied, making me giggle. How gullible could my brother get, he honest to god thought I was passionate about a job that I didn't even have anymore! It was like he wasn't even trying to think anymore. Geez, get your head in the game, John. Maybe take some time to actually think about what you're going to say before you say it. Passionate about my old job my arse! Like that would ever happen in real life!

"No she's keeping something a secret. I don't know what it is but I promise you I will find out." Sherlock exclaimed in irritation. Wow, he really didn't like that I was keeping a secret from him did he? Every puzzle had to be solved for him or else the world was ending. Sherlock was a real drama queen, that was for sure.

"You don't ever listen to me do you? She's not hiding anything." John said, causing me to snicker. Poor John, no one ever listened to him. Even if he was wrong half the time, he deserved at least some respect. Yeah, I wasn't hiding anything super important, or at least nothing that would qualify as important to John. But if John were to find out he would flip out, and I couldn't have that on my hands now could I? So ... Instead of telling John now I would keep him in the dark, wait until it felt like the right time to tell him. Which was really anytime except this exact moment, to be perfectly honest.

"Stop gossiping about me and get your arses over here." I said, walking slowly into the building, the door slamming shut behind me. Yup, I locked them out, and yes I felt no shame at all whatsoever. I'd let them in eventually, but it was just so funny to see them beg. Besides, they shouldn't have been gossiping about me anyways. This was their punishment, and maybe just maybe I'd let them come in. After I made them ask nicely of course! After all, I was invited up for tea, not those bozos. They almost made a mess of things! I was the one who fixed them and got us in, if anything I should be the only one going in. I wouldn't do that though, I mean if I did that I'd have no one to show off to! No, no, no I'd let them come with me, not now, or maybe in the next few minutes but I would. Because after all, what's a queen without her servants!

 

 


	7. Realizations and The Secret Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

**_ ABRIELLE'S POV _ **

Not long after I had let the boys into the building, we had headed up to the nice woman's flat. She was really very kind to us, and her boyfriend was very pleasant as well, in fact he had even baked us cookies! No, the cookies weren't poisoned, Sherlock checked ... twice. After we had talked to her for a bit and swapped stories, I noticed Sherlock heading out towards the balcony getting ready to jump. Deciding that I wanted to follow him, I sprung into action, quickly demanding John to stay behind and distract the kind couple for a little while while we checked out Van Coon's place. At first he had objected, stating that someone was going to have to look out for our safety, and that that person was him. But then when I had threatened to take away his laptop he quickly complied with my demand, rushing to the kitchen to talk to the nice people and distract them for the time being. While he was keeping the other two occupied I had quickly approached Sherlock, his body now halfway over the balcony. Knowing that if I timed this exactly right I'd land correctly, I rushed towards the balcony railing, my hands instantly contacting with it as I swung my body over the ledge, rushing straight past Sherlock's confused face. With the help of the momentum, I swung effortlessly into a freefall that was heading straight for Van Coon's balcony. As I neared I braced myself, my body forming itself into the perfect ball as I rolled elegantly onto the lower balcony. I stood up, brushing the dirt off my shirt as I heard the thump of Sherlock landing gracefully beside me. After that me and Sherlock had come to the mutual agreement to search Van Coon's flat for some sort of clue to his whereabouts. We checked the kitchen, the living room, even the bathroom for anything that could have told us where he had gone. Yet we had found nothing. No evidence whatsoever that he had even left his house. His toothbrush and other toiletries were still in the bathroom, there was a take out bag throw in the trash that suggested he had ordered takeout and delivery recently, and there was a suitcase next to the door that was empty, which meant that he hadn't even thought about leaving the area! Stupid bastard. After looking everywhere and finding absolutely nothing me and Sherlock had decided call John down, maybe with his help we'd find something. And find something we did ... In the form of Van Coon's dead body of course.That's right, Van Coon was dead ... shot in the head with a gun and lying on his bed sheet kind of dead. So, like any rational person in this situation I called the police. Yes, Sherlock Holmes and Abrielle Watson called the police I know I know that's unheard of. But we kind of had to, I mean, we had looked around the flat ourselves already, and we couldn't just let a corpse lay there to rot, so yes we called the police. After eight minutes of looking around the area for more clues and waiting for the police to arrive, arrive they did. They rushed up to the flat an ambulance and forensic officers in tow. It was like a bloody parade I swear! Now here we were, looking at a dead corpse of our victim to try and figure out why this specific person was being threatened. Out of all the people in the world this specific man was killed because of a graffiti symbol, I didn't know how or why but he was. This was much more than a silly warning painted in a bank, oh no this was something much more, and I swore with everything I knew and loved I'd get to the bottom of it. This man deserved justice and justice is what he would get.

"D'you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys." My brother exclaimed, watching as Sherlock and I examined the body.

"We don't know that it was suicide." Sherlock replied, looking at John with a heated glare. John was assuming things, and that was never a good place to be when you worked with Sherlock Holmes. Even I knew that from simply reading John's blogs! You'd think after living with Sherlock you'd at least know not to assume something so rash after knowing so little about the situation.

"Come on. The door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony." John explained, looking at Sherlock with an annoyed expression. It was obvious to him, of course it was. He wasn't using his eyes at all! He was just assuming the worst and it was anything but the truth! Stupid goldfish John. He was really annoying the heck out of me.

"Yes, but that means nothing John. Another person could have easily locked the door on his way out of the flat." I exclaimed looking at my brother like he was the biggest idiot on the planet. No one in their right mind should ever pass this off as a suicide. It just wasn't true! I looked towards Sherlock, my eyes following his as he looked down at an open suitcase on the floor. Ah, his clothing, now we were getting somewhere! Finally!

"Been away three days, judging by the laundry." Sherlock stated, my eyes scanning over the case, analyzing everything and anything I could. Going from the deep indentation in the clothing something else was there, something that was packed up against the clothing like a casing for it, so judging from that it was something that was valuable and could get broken easily. And judging by the look in Sherlock's eye he had noticed that too.

"Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it." Sherlock said, looking up at John, explaining his deduction.

"From the way the creases line up, I'd say it was something oddly shaped, maybe a cup, or a vase or something like that." I continued, adding on to Sherlock's previous thought. Alright! So maybe he hadn't deduced ever single little thing like I had. That meant that I had a one up on him, Abrielle one, Sherlock zero. I was winning, nothing new. But I was winning against the amazing Sherlock Holmes, which was definitely something to be excited about. It's not everyday that you go against a great and mighty source like Sherlock, and it sure as hell isn't everyday where you see Sherlock mess up. So something like this was huge. I had somewhat beaten Sherlock at his own game, and damn did it feel good! I looked up at him, watching him with a small smirk on my lips just thinking about it, watching as he walked to the foot of Van Coon's bed.

"Those symbols at the bank – the graffiti. It was definitely a warning. I'm positive." Sherlock explained, not even looking up to establish who he was talking to. Well duh! Of course it was a warning! The man that the warning was meant for is lying dead in his flat! It wasn't just some coincidence and some killer just decided to kill the exact same person that just happened to be threatened, this was a planned out murder. Van Coon was threatened and then killed, so of course the graffiti at the bank was a warning. What else was it going to be, a piece of pie? Yeah, no. Sherlock was acting like a freaking goldfish now, and it was not something I particularly enjoyed. It was wrong on so many levels, it was just not normal! A warning was a warning, and a dead guy was a dead guy, but Sherlock ... Sherlock was not acting like Sherlock.

"What, some sort of warning, threatening his life?" John asked, looking at Sherlock in confusion. It was as if he hadn't even been listening to me earlier! I had said OUT LOUD that it had been a warning! Either I was going mute, or I was being ignored. Hopefully it was not the latter, because I did not take being ignored lightly.

"Exactly John, good job!" I stated sarcastically, glaring him in the eyes as I joined up with Sherlock who was now looking at Van Coon's corpse. I watched carefully, my eyes taking in everything as Sherlock pulled out a small black origami flower from within the guy's mouth. Wait a minute ... black flower? Supposed suicide? It couldn't be could it? Were they really back again after such a short amount of time. Oh they wouldn't come here would they? Not after knowing that I could easily kill them all again. They weren't that dumb were they? Oh, but they were. They were back and they were killing people now. They must have known that I would be here ... Unless that's precisely why they came here. It was the only explanation. They were here, and they were coming for me.

"Black lotus." I whispered quietly my head looking down at the tiny black origami piece of paper with all the malice I could muster. They were the first. The first to give me a name, a reputation. The first group to make things personal. The first to give me a friend. Without them I would be long gone ... No where close to humanity. That friend had taken my rough cold exterior and melted it to form the more human side of me that everyone ... Well, some people, saw in me today. Without the Black Lotus I never would have had that.

"What'd you say?" Sherlock asked looking at me in curiosity, staring me down with a quick quirk of his brow. He was curious ... and if this was any normal situation I may have told him. Well, maybe. But not now, not when this was personal for me. Now was not the best time that was for sure.

"I said I'll be right back." I clarified in a louder tone, my face glancing over towards Sherlock's disbelieving frown as I walked towards the door, flicking my gloves off in a quick haste as I tried to hurry my way out of the room. I needed to get more help on this, I needed to call _him_ it was the only way. I needed answers to my questions and _he_ had them. I knew it was risky, especially this early into meeting up with my brother after such a long time. But I had to, _he_ had the answers I needed to get this case over and done with as soon as possible. If this case didn't end quickly I'd die, because if I was right, and I usually was, the Black Lotus came here to do one thing and one thing only, they came here to kill me. I needed help and the only way to get it would be _him_ , so _him_ I would ask.

"Wait, where are you going?" John asked in confusion, my focus turning to him as I gave him a small reassuring smile.

"I just need to call a friend quick." I replied, flipping my phone out my pocket and tossing it in the air as if to just backup my claim even more. Yes, I know, I was being dramatic. But who said a little drama killed anybody? I smiled, giving him my most innocent smile, as I awaited the vast amount of questioning that John would surely do once he got out of his confused stupor.

"In the middle of a case?!" He exclaimed in surprise, totally catching me off guard. This was not how John normally behaved around me, normally it was question after question after question about who I was calling, why I was calling them, how old the person I was calling was, and every question in between. But this, this was a whole different level of John. I never, not once been exempt from his questioning spree, but today all he had for me was why are you calling someone while you're at a murder scene? Really, is that the best he could come up with? It was a creative question I'll give him that, but really? It was all he wanted to ask me about? Wow, John had seriously changed, he wasn't as protective anymore ... well he was still really protective, but he didn't ask me a list of random questions every time I wanted to talk to someone now. That's good ... right? No, it wasn't good, I missed when he actually cared about me. The times he would double check my windows to see if they were locked, or wrap me up in neon duct tape if we ever went out at night. I missed his relentless questioning just as much as I miss defying him and telling him no. Him simply asking me why I was calling at such a bad time was not something I wanted, no I wanted more. I wanted my old brother back. Asking me something as simply as 'why are you calling them now?' is not what I wanted, not by a long shot. But I'd have to ignore it, because this was John now. I'd never get my old John back not ever. This was him, and I'd have to learn to accept it.

I sighed a little, giving him a playful glare. If this was all he was going to ask me then I was going to give him something to remember in return ... just a little bit of defiance to give him the notation that I didn't need to be protected all my life. Something dramatic, and show offy, and just enough of me that not even Sherlock will delete it from his mind.

"Yup, I can do whatever I want. Besides, It looks like Sherlock's got this." I stated with a smirk, turning on my heel and hurrying the hell out of there. I walked carefully past the other officers, making my way out into the hall where I knew I wouldn't be heard. Then, when I finally arrived at my destination I stopped, glancing down at my phone. I was conflicted, calling _him_ would give me the answers I so dearly needed, and a conversation would be nice, since I haven't talked to _him_ since I've returned. But then on the other hand if I do call _him_ , John would know before I want him to. I didn't want him to know, not this early. I wanted to stay with him a few months before I even hinted at it. I needed to take things carefully with John, ease him into this in a way. But if I call _him_ , John would never get the chance to ease his way into this. It would be abrupt and out of nowhere and I did not want to be lectured by John, not now. John's lectures were boring, and I was not going to let him yell at me, not after the debacle of 2001. But I had to call him, I knew I would be in trouble if I didn't ... possibly even dead at the hands of Van Coon's murderer. But calling _him_ might just give me the advantage I needed to avoid that. Alright, I'd call _him_ and that was that. I went through my contacts dialing a familiar number and holding it to my ear as I awaited for him to answer. 

"Hello." A voice replied, picking up on the other end. This was it, this was where everything would either break apart or stay glued in place. This conversation would decide whether or not I lived or died. This was everything I had worked for in a nutshell, and this conversation was the deciding factor on whether or not the life I had built for myself would continue. This was it, whatever I said and whatever I figured out would seal my fate forever. If I died I died and it would be all my fault.

"Hey it's me, I need you to do me a favor." I stated, smirking towards the phone. I'd be fine I was in safe hands ... well as safe as life can get nowadays, but it's fine. _He'd_ find the information I need, that's not what I'm worried about. It's the John apocalypse after the fact that I'm worried about. Oh, no I'd be fine. _He'd_ keep me safe. That I had no doubt about, I'd be fine. I mean I wouldn't just flat out die from my brother yelling at me. That'd be interesting though ... death by lecture. No, this was all fine and dandy, because now I had a one up on the Black Lotus, now I was winning against them too, and soon, not now or anytime close to now but soon I'd have the heads of whoever murdered Van Coon up on my wall. No one hunts me and gets away with it, that was for sure. I'm a devil with horns, and hunting me meant death. And death they would get, on that I was positive.  


	8. The Only Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

** _SHERLOCK'S POV_ **

Not more than a second had passed since Abrielle had left the room, and I already felt the need to explain her disappearance to John. There was no doubt, she was hiding something. I know, I know innocent until proven guilty. And I was aware that I had no liable evidence against her, nor had I deduced it in any way. But coupled with the way she flat out lied about what she had whispered a few minutes prior and the fact that she had left to phone someone in the middle of the case there was no doubt that she was hiding something. Something not only work related, but also something so bad that not even I could simply deduce it off of her. I looked at John, my face clearly saying it all as I waited for him to look my way. Finally not more than a minute later he did.

"I told you. She's clearly hiding something." I stated looking towards him with a knowing smirk. Something was going on with that sister of his and it was something that needed to be addressed.

"Don't be silly. She isn't. She wouldn't. She's an open book." John replied, looking at me in disbelief, as if the very idea of Abrielle hiding something was incomprehensible to him.

"She's hiding something John, just because you're blinded by affection for your younger sibling doesn't mean that she isn't keeping secrets from us." I informed him, giving him a small glare to finish it off. She was anything but an open book, Going from the look of her eyes she lied, and a lot. Every liar has a tell, you just had to look hard enough, and Abrielle ... well, Abrielle's tell was the way her eyes darkened when she lied. Normally they were bright and full of life, but when she lied her eyes were dark and dangerous as if she were warning you not to listen to her. If she were an open book she wouldn't have lied as much as she has. So obviously either John was an idiot, or John was denying it and instead of seeing Abrielle for who she really was he saw what he wanted to see. Either way he was wrong, and I intended to fix that.

"I've known that girl since she was born, and there is no way she is even capable of keeping a secret for more than a minute. She's the shyest least secretive person you'll ever meet." John mumbled quietly, looking closely at the black paper flower as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Not secretive, no. Shy, no. Not cable of keeping a secret, no, no, no, no! She wasn't like that all! Did John really not notice just how much his little sister had changed? She was different now.

"Something has changed because she's not the girl you remember. She's more manipulative, more secretive, more outgoing. She's not the little girl you grew up with, John." I explained, barely looking at him as I spoke. I was deep in thought now, my brain was working a mile a minute to figure out what exactly she was hiding. Every possible scenario the good and the bad to find anything, ANYTHING that could lead me to the right answer. When I found nothing of importance I abandoned those thoughts and instead I went to my mind palace, my imaginary feet guiding itself to a new addition to the third floor. This was it ... the Abrielle Watson Room. I ripped off the caution tape that was telling me to stay out, as the room was not completed and I entered walking carefully through the shiny blue door, the same blue as her eyes. It was a room like I'd never seen before, there were books surrounding the walls and the bed had several boxes of manila files just sitting there. The beauty of the room though was not that it had so many books, or files, or a door the same color as her eyes, no it was the beautiful violin the color of chocolate that sat directly next to the bed that took my interest. Why did my mind put it there? What was so special about it? And why in Abrielle's room of all places? It's not like she played violin, so why was it here and not in in my room like it should have been? Ugh! Too many questions and not enough answers! I picked up one of the books and turned it around. No that can't be right ... the title was missing, and the pages ... the pages were blank, stark white as if they were brand new and bought at a store. If this book was empty did that mean that the others were too? I ran through her room, picking up books and looking through the folders, yet all of them were blank. All off them! Not one of them filled with information except for one line on one file on the bed, and all it told me was that Abrielle was related to John, and that she had black hair and blue eyes. Anyone, even an idiot like Anderson could have deduced that! How could this be? It was like I didn't know anything about Abrielle! She was just a big question mark to me. This was all so new to me ... I never couldn't deduce someone like this. It was almost like I was losing my game, like every second I was around Abrielle the more I became an idiot. No but that couldn't be true could it, it was simply illogical! I brought up a mental image of her, our conversations slowly swirling around in my ears as I looked the girl up and down. I couldn't be turning human because of her right?

"Bag this up, will you ... and see if you can get prints off this glass." A man's voice stated, echoing off off the walls as he entered the room. Plain clothes, looks about 23 at the most, he must be a Sergeant I analysed snapping out of my Abrielle induced thoughts.

"Ah, Sergeant. We haven't met." I said politely, holding my hand out for him to shake. I know, I usually don't do formalities and all, but this was different. We had after all broken into a crime scene without permission, we needed to act respectful so they didn't try and turn us in or anything like that. I know anyone here would just love to throw me in jail for one thing or another, and this would be the perfect ammunition, so therefore politeness it was.

"Yeah, I know who you are; and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." The man replied, giving me a stern glare as he nodded his head towards the lotus in my other hand. So much for formalities and such. This guy was an absolute jerk, there was no doubt in my mind that Abrielle would simply hate the guy, he was after all very much like Sebastian.

"I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?" I questioned rudely, handing the man the origami lotus as I stared grumpily in his direction. I wanted Lestrade here. Geoff, Gavin, Graham ... whatever the hell his name was. He was much better at his job than this imbecile. At least Lestrade was smart enough to know that when I was solving a case you better stay out of my way. Apparently, this man hadn't got that memo. Where was Gavin anyways, I had called him not more than twenty minutes ago, it doesn't take that long to make it to the center of London.

"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock." The man now known as Dimmock said rather pompously, my eyes immediately going to John's as I gave him a surprised look. Really? DI? I highly doubt that considering he looked barely old enough to graduate Uni for that matter, and additional to that it took a vast amount of time of climbing up the ranks to become a DI. So how was he possibly one this early in his life? It wasn't like it was because he was smart or anything, in fact he's rather dumb. So how in the world could he possibly be one? It was as if he were lying to throw me off.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." Dimmock replied, handing the origami lotus off to one of the men that passed him. And the man get's stupider. It was like he was purposely turning himself into an idiot! What was wrong with this man! He was like Anderson but three times worse, minus the stupid face of course. Anderson looked like a seal mixed with a horse, where as this man looked fresh out of school! Ugh, if there was one thing I hated the most in the world it was smug idiots that thought that they knew everything. This was anything but a suicide, in fact it was a murder I was positive, so why did Dimmock immediately assume it was a suicide?

"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts." John replied to Dimmock, agreeing with his hypothesis. Oh, great! John was turning into an idiot now too! What was this ... was nobody's brain's working today? I snapped off my latex gloves in anger, and turned towards the idiotic detective inspector to correct him on his obvious blunder.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts." A voice said behind me, I turned on my heel to find Abrielle with a smirk on her lips and a shimmer in her eyes. She was amused, for what reason I didn't know, but I did know however that her and I were on the same path, this was murder.

"That is precisely what I was going to say." I replied, giving her a small smile as I regained my calm composure once again.

"You see you lot have got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." I explained, gesturing around the area with a new sense of superiority around me. Van Coon had died sometime last night, probably around one or two in the morning going by the small amount of blood. There wasn't a struggle, there wouldn't have been when the victim was half asleep in his bed. So someone, most likely the acrobat that broke into the bank, had also decided to kill Van Coon. Nothing around this area lead me to suggest Suicide, not one bit. There was no evidence whatsoever to support that theory.

"The wound was on the right side of his head." I replied, explaining my findings to Dimmock. If the wound was on the right then there was no way it could have been anything but murder. After all Van Coon had clearly been threatened, and now no more than a few hours later we find the same man dead. That was the definition of murder, and if this imbecile couldn't see that, well he should clearly rethink his job choice.

"And?" Dimmock urged on, still lost as to why the wound being on the right was so important.

"Van Coon was clearly left-handed." Abrielle explained snarkily, trying to mime a person trying to point a gun to her right temple with her left hand as if to just accentuate her point even further.

"Requires quite a bit of contortion." I continued, adding onto Abrielle's previous thoughts as I gestured to Abrielle's demonstration. If this didn't make Dimmock understand, I didn't know what would. It was like pulling teeth with him, all he did was question, and doubt, and ignore. All he cared about was his own opinions. As if the right answers were always wrong and everything had to be done his way. Ugh, it was annoying.

"Left-handed?"Dimmock asked in reply, his face contorting into a confused frown.

"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice. All you have to do is look around this flat." Abrielle answered sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the stupid question. I could just see the sarcasm bouncing around her whole face. She was very annoyed there was no doubt about it. I had been correct when I had said that she would hate Dimmock, because just by the look of her face it was clear that she did. She was cross at Dimmock, and there was not a doubt in my mind that soon she would do the exact same thing she did to Sebastian, embarrass him until he was humiliated beyond belief. It was one thing that made me rather enjoy Abrielle's company. She stood up for me, and helped me even though she had no reason to

"The coffee table on the left-hand side and the coffee mug handle is pointing to the left. The Power sockets: he habitually used the ones on the left ..." Abrielle stated, pointing towards both the table beside the sofa, and the power sockets in quick secession.

"Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want us to go on?" I finished, glancing towards Abrielle who gave me an approving nod.

"No, I think you've covered it." John exclaimed in exasperation, staring at both me and his sister as if he were tired of us. It was as if he felt the need to stop us, and by the look of his face it wasn't the first time he had to stop Abrielle either. He was annoyed that we were being show offs, and yet he wasn't at all annoyed that Dimmock was being an idiot. It was so unfair! He couldn't just tell me and Bree what to do and totally ignore the other person at fault here! Dimmock was being an idiot so I decided to show him that he was wrong, and knowing Abrielle she was doing the same exact thing as me. We were fine, it wasn't like we were going to kill the man by acting like the geniuses we were.

"Oh, I might as well finish I'm almost at the bottom of the list." I replied, giving Abrielle a small raise of my brow as if asking for permission to continue. She nodded a small smirk resting on her lips as she did so.

"There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." I explained pointing at the knife that still had butter spread on it's blade.

"Which means it would be physically impossible for him to have shot himself in the head. Not only that but he wasn't even close to depression, in fact from the look of the room he had a stable job that paid a lot of money, a girlfriend that he was planning on proposing to, and a loving family. He would have no need to off himself." Abrielle finished, looking at me with a smug smile. I knew that she had deduced more than me, I just knew it, and from the look of her smile she knew it too.

"How could you possibly know that?!" John asked his sister in appalment, staring at her as if she had grown two heads or something as equally as interesting.

"I simply used my eyes." Abrielle replied looking at John with a playful smile. How did she do it? Well she deduced it obviously. The question is how? She was in the hall making a phone call for a good fifteen minutes before she came back in, so where could she have deduced it from? She was good, in fact she's brilliant. She was a good challenger. I don't think once in all my years I've ever seen someone that had something that similar to my skillset before. She just used her eyes, simple as that, and to be honest it was amazing.

"Yes, I know that Abrielle, I meant what did you see." John explained, rolling his eyes at her. Sibling rivalry, now we're getting somewhere. That was something new about Abrielle that I could add to her room, and it wasn't a lie either. You just can't fake a sibling rivalry, and I know that from experience. Her face was playful and childish because she knew she would win which means John lets her win all the time. Her eyes were hopeful though, as if she kept up this sibling rivalry as a remembrance of old times. But why? Why would she want to keep things the way they were? I was getting somewhere I just had a feeling. Maybe she'd drop another clue to who she was in her deduction, it was always possible.

"Well, considering he has several freshly pressed Paul Smith suits that are extremely expensive ..." Abrielle started only to be interrupted by Detective Inspector Idiot.

"Bollocks. How could you possibly know it's that specific brand, it could be any old suit." He stated, looking towards Abrielle like she was the stupidest person in history.

"My coworker wears that specific brand all the time. Of course I'd be able to tell what brand it is, unlike you who most likely doesn't even know their left from their right. Aren't you way to young to even be a DI?" Abrielle replied, questioning him. She was very very cross now, you could just see it in the way her eyes darkened.

"I'll have you know Ms that I do not take lightly to rudeness. I do believe that I have every right to send you straight to jail for interfering with police work, considering you are after all a civilian." Dimmock explained, giving her a harsh glare that even the toughest of men would run away from. But not Abrielle, no she stood there her head held high, and an evil smile resting on her lips. The deep pools of her eyes brightening considerably.

"You wanna bet." She replied, her eyes glinting mischievously as she grabbed a small thin rectangular wallet out of her pocket, and opened it showing it to the detective.

"Bloody hell." Dimmock said in surprise, his face reddening in embarrassment. I was right, she had embarrassed him. I didn't know how or why, but whatever it was it seemed to be whatever was in that wallet. That wallet and whatever was inside was key to this secret she was keeping I just knew it. I needed to see that wallet. The question was, how?

"You can't lay a single finger on me Detective Inspector, so I suggest you tread lightly." Abrielle replied, looking at him with a smug smile placed gently on her lips.

"My sincerest apologies ma'am." Dimmock replied with a frown, looking at Abrielle as if he had disrespected the queen or something. She wasn't that important, she was after all a Watson by blood, so it would be impossible to become royalty. So who was she? And why was he apologizing so profusely?

"As you should be sorry." Abrielle replied, nodding her head in an approval of his apology. She smiled a small smile in John's direction, his mouth dropping to the floor at Abrielle's behavior. She closed the wallet and went to put it away, but just before she could I snatched it out of her hand. This was my chance this was when I'd figure out just what the precious little Abrielle Watson was hiding behind her rough exterior!

"Give that back!" She shouted in full blown anger, trying to reach up and grab it back from me. She was a hobbit, did she honest to god expect to take it from me? Really? Whatever was in that wallet must be of importance if she was trying that hard to get it back.

"No, I need to know what your hiding." I stated holding the wallet just out of her reach. I couldn't risk looking at it yet, not now when she was so close to me. If I lowered it any further she could jump up and grab it, and she knew that too.

"Give me it. Now." She demanded, holding out her hand as if she expected me to simply hand it back to her.

"Repeating yourself is not going to make me give it back to you any quicker." I replied, looking down at her fuming form. It wasn't like I'd just hand it over after all of that! No, I wanted to know what she was keeping from me and John and I wanted to know as soon as I possibly could. Giving it back would mean that she finds a safer place to keep it and I wouldn't be able to look at it. Giving it back would mean game over she wins, I lose. But if I could just wait a little bit more until she gives up and walk away, I'd have the upper hand. I'd win this little game of ours. I just needed to wait a little more, just a few more minutes.

"You asked for it." She said, walking calmly over to me, placing her non-dominant foot in front of her when she was a mere two or three inches away from me. Then in the blink of an eye she stomped on my foot as hard as she possibly could. And let me tell you, it hurt like hell. Then while I was holding my injured foot, distracted for the time being she sweeped my other foot, causing me to fall to the floor, crippled and in pain. I was stunned, there was no way she could know how to do that. No way. Who was Abrielle Watson? Because I'll tell you one thing, she is definitely not who she says she is. Not with that level of training.

"I'll be taking that back thanks." She said, grabbing her wallet back and strutting out the door with a smile on her face. A stunned expression overtaking my features as I thought. How? Really though, how could she just know something like that? What wasn't she telling us? And what was in that wallet? It was all just a bunch of question marks. So many question that lead to one case. Who was Abrielle? It was all I wanted ... no, all I needed to know. Abrielle Watson, the only unsolved mystery.

"She so showed you!" John exclaimed, snapping me out of my thoughts as he helped me to stand. To him this was all a joke, like I had it coming. But what he didn't see however is that Abrielle was hiding something in that wallet. She was protecting her secret, not making me embarrassed. Anyways, that would be a horrible tactic to make me embarrassed and she knew that. No, harming me did nothing. Embarrassment for me was one word ... Mycroft. He always had it in his mind to tell people things about my childhood, things that normal people would find gross or abnormal. Tales of experiments, and friendships gone wrong. He was there for it all.

"Yes, she rather did show me." I said with a small smile, thinking of what she was planning next. It was my move now, she'd already sacrificed her queen. She had little to no moves left. I would win, for that I knew for sure. After all I never lost.

"Wait, you're not upset? A girl just beat up the great Sherlock Holmes!? A girl that is by the way my little sister?!" John asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing as he frowned up at me. He was confused, and again I might add. Poor John and his unintelligence. He saw but he didn't observe.

"No, don't you see, John? Your sister made a crucial mistake!" I explained looking at him with a huge smile. Yes, she made a mistake. It was her sacrifice. The sacrifice of her queen for the ultimate checkmate. The only problem is, I know what she's doing.

"Mistake? What mistake, she beat you up and took her possessions back. The possessions, by the way, that you had stolen from her in the first place!" John exclaimed, explaining his confusion.

"Yes, but did you notice how she attacked me? She placed her non dominant foot in front of her so the sweep would be more forceful. That means she's desperate to protect the information on that card. So the question is what was on that card that could be so important that she doesn't want anyone to see it?" I explained victoriously, raising one of my brows in question. She would literally do anything if her secret were in danger of being released. And she had beaten me to a pulp to retrieve her wallet, which leads me to conclude that whatever was in that wallet was attached to her secret in some way shape or form. Whatever she kept in there was important.

"Don't be ridiculous! You aren't still obsessed with that theory are you?" He questioned me, looking at me in annoyance. Yes, I was still obsessed with that fact. Of course I was! It was like a mini case within a case. Besides I wanted to challenge a mind just as genius as my own, and that mind just happened to be Abrielle's.

"She's hiding something John, it's very rare to see someone that has training in that particular form of fighting." I stated, explaining what me getting beaten to a pulp had lead me to deduce about our favorite little Watson.

"It was just a sweep of her leg! That's self defense 101, anyone can learn that!" John replied, looking at me as if I was the craziest man on the planet. Yes, it was self defense I knew that. In fact I was taught that. But it wasn't that kind of self defense. This was training, training for something very particular.

"No, John, they can't. Didn't you see the way it was executed? It was perfect and clean cut, it was precise and focused. Self defense is taught in a vague perspective and it isn't that perfect. Besides, she stepped on my foot, rather harshly I might say. She distracted me first. That is an old fighting move that was taught to the soldiers of Sapporo, an old Japanese movement that started in 1886 by the Japanese government to protect it's people. Only a few handful of people know that move, and your sister is one of them. She's hiding something, John, and the key is on that card." I exclaimed, grabbing my coat and putting it on. I needed to go to my mind palace, but not here. No, here was too noisy, and Dimmock's face was putting me off.

"Do you need any more proof that this isn't a suicide or can I leave?" I asked, turning towards Dimmock with a glare. I disliked him so much, and what Abrielle did to him he most definitely deserved. If he needed more proof I'd most certainly die. No one was that idiotic. Not even Anderson.

"No, I trust the lady." Dimmock replied back. His face still red from utter embarrassment. Good, he trusts Abrielle. At least we got one good thing out of her embarrassing him, other than his hilarious reaction of course.

"Good choice. Come on, John, we must be going." I stated pulling my coat collar up and exciting the room dramatically, John following slowly behind me. This was it, I'd find out Abrielle's little secret soon. I just knew it. All it would take is lot's of brain power, and a vast amount of patience, something I'd be sure to practice during this case. I had her king cornered all I had to do now is wait for the right moment to strike. Watch your back Miss. Watson because I played to win. And this time was no exception.    


	9. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

**_ ABRIELLE'S POV _ **

It was a few weeks after Van Coon's death and we were still getting nowhere with the case. It was if we had gotten one really good lead and then ... nothing. The trail got cold. During that week I had avoided Sherlock like the plague, and whenever we had seen each other I would kindly greet him and then scurry off to Mrs.Hudson's flat for a nice cup of tea. Most times such as now was spent sitting in the living room reading while Sherlock and John were off looking for clues in the case, something that would give us another lead. In fact right now I was sitting on Sherlock's seat reading the Imitation Game, while those two were doing exactly that. Or at least I was reading ... until my phone starting ringing out of nowhere! I ignored the call thinking that maybe just maybe whoever was calling would just leave me a message and let me READ IN PEACE. But to no avail because not more than a minute later my phone starting ringing AGAIN! I glanced down at the caller ID this time, wondering who in their right mind would call me more than once when they clearly know I don't want to speak with them. And as I saw who it was I gasped. It was _him_! I had hung up on _him_! Oh boy did I owe the guy now. Ugh! I was such an idiot! _He'd_ have a lead by now, I was certain and here I was ignoring _his_ calls. So, instead of hanging up this time I quickly answered the call, knowing that _he_ hated to be ignored more than once.

"Hello, Bree speaking." I stated with a fake smile on my lips, yeah, yeah. I know he can't see me but still. Besides I was freaking out. It was the reason that I had stated my name in the first place, otherwise why the hell would I? _He_ knew who I was after all!

"I'm well aware of that Abrielle. I called you for a reason." _He_ replied chidingly, causing me to instantly roll my eyes. _He_ was seriously acting like _he_ was superior to ME! Really? We were on the same level! Just because _he's_ cross at me for not picking up the phone the first time, and giving _him_ a kind greeting for a change didn't mean that _he_ had to go and act like my father! _He_ is NOT superior to me! Not at all! And since when did _he_ call me randomly out of nowhere?

"Oh, so we're having social calls now? I know I'm your best friend but I didn't think you'd be the one to miss people." I replied sarcastically, placing my legs on the arm of the chair one over the other in amusement. _He_ wouldn't call me for no reason, and I knew this wasn't just a call between friends. No _he_ had news, I just wanted to play with _him_ a little, maybe get _him_ to admit that _he's_ friends with me. _He_ was a very unsociable person, and anytime I got to rub that in I most definitely would. Besides _he_ was my friend, _he_ understood.

"Yes well, although you may be my ... friend. You know full well that this is anything but a social call. You did after all ask for information on the Black Lotus Gang." _He_ said, most likely grimacing at the word friend. I knew _him_ and _he_ never liked the word friend. _He_ said it as if it were a curse word, in fact if it weren't for me he probably wouldn't even have a friend! I was _his_ one and only friend and _he_ was mine. We had each other. I trusted _him_ with my secrets and _he_ gave me information on what I needed as soon as I needed it. Such as today ... I needed information about the Black Lotus Gang and _he_ delivered.

"Yeah I did, why? You've got something?" I questioned, looking towards the ceiling tiles in boredom. I hated talking on the phone it was so annoying! You couldn't even see the person you were talking to! Plus it was boring, I couldn't deduce what the person had been up to, or what they were doing. I much preferred face to face, that way I could deduce anything and everything about the person and curb my boredom for the time being. As for whether or not _he_ had information on the Black Lotus, if that were true why this late? It's been weeks since I've asked him at the crime scene. Did _he_ not get around to it until now? Or maybe _he_ was losing his touch? Either way the info was well overdue. Did _he_ even have something of importance?

"Of course I've got something, don't doubt my intelligence Miss. Watson." _He_ responded in a contridating way, rebutting my statement. Yes, I questioned _his_ lateness! But why does _he_ have to counter my questioning every single time? I didn't doubt _him_ if that was what _he_ was on about. In fact I trusted _him_ one hundred percent.

"I never would doubt you. You were after all the one to teach me everything, insulting you would therefore be insulting me. So, come on, out with it." I replied, begging _him_ to tell me what _he_ knows. I needed a lead, something, ANYTHING to get me back out on the streets and running into trouble.

"The murder of Mr.Van Coon was definitely their work. You were right, they're back and stronger than ever. They have been in London for the past week looking for a stolen artifact. One of their smugglers, most likely Van Coon, stole something from them and they want it back." _He_ explained, talking to me as if he were telling me a story. So it was the Black Lotus, I was right! I knew it was them the second I saw the origami there was no doubt it was them. That was after all their killing style. So, they wanted to come onto my turf and start killing people. How dangerously stupid of them. And they were looking for a stolen artifact too, it looks as though one of their street smugglers got greedy. I told them they should stop hiring orphans and nobodies. In fact I thought I told them to stop smuggling and never take another thing ever again. I guess they didn't take me seriously, I guess I'll have to send them another message.

"Who's the leader of the Black Lotus this time around?" I asked in a very serious manner, already deep in thought as I wandered around my mind palace. I needed more information, anything I had stored away about the crime syndicate I had defeated so long ago. The last time we had met Mr. Chang was the main leader along with five of his friends. So, considering they treated themselves like royalty did that mean that Chang's daughter Shan would be next in line for leadership? Was that even possible considering that they didn't even let females do that sort of thing in that association? But no one else was pure enough to take the lead. So who else could it be if not Shan?

"Shan's the new leader. She's in London which means we have a good chance of taking her into custody and destroying the gang once and for all. Especially with Sherlock's help." _He_ replied knowingly, sounding as if _he_ ... knew. Oh my shite! _He's_ been keeping tabs on me all this time, as if _he_ didn't trust me to follow through on my orders! That jerk!

"You were watching. Ugh, I so should have seen that coming." I replied in annoyance. _He_ thought I was going to ignore him and run away from my commands. _He's_ been watching on those silly cameras of his just waiting for me to arrive at Sherlock's house. _He_ saw me beat Sherlock up too I bet. You know, it's so Ironic when I was the one that set up those stupid cameras in the first place. Ugh. I just can't believe _he_ was watching me all that time! _He_ better have turned off the one in Sherlock's room, if _he_ saw me get undressed I swear I will kick him the bollocks. I swear to god. UGH! _He_ better not have bloody watched me get undressed.

"Of course I'm watching Abrielle. Nice Job with the leg sweep by the way, stupendous form." _He_ congratulated me, an amused smile surely on his lips. _He_ saw the fight, I was soooo right! And _he's_ congratulating me on it too, I should have known.

"I did learn that move from you, of course it was amazingly executed. Besides you enjoyed watching Sherlock in pain, admit it." I demanded in a mockingly playful way. _He_ loved watching Sherlock suffer with that stupid god complex _he_ had. _He_ just loved watching _his_ opponents suffer, which was really quite sad considering Sherlock was an amazingly awesome person. He was a genius, and he was on the side of the angels too. He was a sweet person with a kind heart and good morals, in fact he was just the kind of person I strove to be. He was guarded when it came to emotions and he didn't feel them either. He kept his heart safe so it wouldn't shatter, which was one thing I could never do and it left me with scars of the memories gone past. He could delete memories and thoughts, or so I've been told. And there are some things I wish I could very much forget, but I can't. While other people saw him as rude, and uncaring, and direct I saw him as Kind and to the point, and just overall a very nice guy. He was the type of person I found myself running after, and yet I was so far away from being that type of person that I admired people like Sherlock. It was the reason why I hated that _he_ liked watching that type of violence come to Sherlock.

"Oh Abrielle, I don't take well to violence. You were always the violent one, never me." _He_ replied jokingly, implying that I was more violent then _him_ due to my random attack made on Sherlock. It was as if _he_ were blaming me for hurting Sherlock! It was Sherlock's fault to begin with!

"He deserved it. He was being an arse since the moment I met him, and taking my card with my job description on it was going way too far." I replied angrily, setting the record straight. I didn't want them to know, not yet at least. And he couldn't just grab MY STUFF right out my hands! That's just completely the opposite of kindness. Yes, I know he's curious. I mean after all who wouldn't be. I'm keeping something from him and he knows that I am. Or he at least suspects it. He wanted to find out, and he knew with the vast height difference that he could. He was so close to finding out, and yet he hadn't. All because I decided to beat his arse up for being a dick.

"Yes, I'm sure he was. You do know that he will find out about your job eventually don't you?" _He_ asked in a very know-it-all sort of way. Of course I knew I wasn't an idiot. I was just trying to delay it that's all.

"Yeah, well he won't be happy I'll tell you that much. Especially John, he always did want me to be kept away from harm." I retorted, a frown finding it's way upon my face. John was always a very caring big brother, and sometimes that caring trait of his seemed to warp into overly cautious mode. He would wrap me up in bubblewrap every single time I wanted to ride my bike. He was always texting me whenever he was off at public school while I stayed home, so he'd know I was safe. He wouldn't let me join the army even though I begged him to let me come with him, and then when he did go off to war he would constantly send me letters to make sure I was okay and not hurt. There was not a doubt in my mind that telling him something like this would make him hate me. He wanted me away from harm, that much was obvious.

"Yet, you've killed millions of people with not a single hint of remorse. Why do you think I offered you a job in the first place?" _He_ inquired, the sudden change of mood really throwing me off. _He_ was being serious, no playfulness, no joking banter. _He_ legit had a reason for hiring me and becoming my friend. _He_ had a reason.

"It was obviously because of my dashing good looks." I replied in a very sarcastic way, rolling my eyes at _him_. Why would I know why _he_ hired me? Only _he_ knew that. If _he_ was so inclined with having an actual conversation _he_ could go right on ahead, but I was not going to just guess things like that. If I'd had known it wouldn't have occurred for _him_ to ask in the first place. Besides I was just a writer when _he_ came to me. Why in the world would _he_ hire a writer? I had no experience at all, and yet _he_ hired me? Why not if not just my looks?

"It was because of the way you understood human nature. Being a writer, you understood different characters, different emotions, different stereotypes. You understood the best in people and the worst in people, and I knew that I could use that strength to my advantage." _He_ explained sincerely, sounding as though _he_ were reviving old memories.

"What's with the sudden heart to heart?" I asked in confusion. I mean usually _he_ wasn't this open. In fact _he_ was a very cold man with no emotions in _his_ body. So why would _he_ suddenly want to pour _his_ heart out to me?

"I need you to focus on your mission. You can't let your heart rule your head, I was watching Bree and I know that you have no intention on following through with your orders." _He_ replied, sounding as though _he_ were skeptical as to whether or not I'd actually do as I'm told. _He_ saw my reaction to Sherlock. _He_ knew. To him I was an open book and _he_ knew I wasn't going to be following through on my instructions anytime soon.

"I don't know if I can do it." I replied, frowning even more so then before. I was falling for Sherlock. It was the reason I kept myself so distant. He was a nice man, and I already saw signs of attraction to him, such as my thoughts of him. I couldn't follow through with my orders. I didn't want to hurt him. I couldn't hurt him. Because I knew if I hurt him then I'd only end up breaking myself. He had no emotion ... I on the other hand very much did. He was steel and I was glass. I just can't follow through on those malice orders.

"And why is that, is it perhaps the fact that you seem to enjoy my brother's presence?" _He_ asked in a knowing tone, _his_ tone deepening as though _he_ were upset.

"I can't just turn my feelings on and off Mycroft. I'm not you, I'm not the ice man with no heart." I said to him, a tear or two dropping down my cheek as my strong composure weakened for the time being. I was a delicate flower that so many people have stepped on that I'm even lucky to still be alive. I was hanging by a steam, only one more break would tear me down, and Sherlock ... Sherlock would be the finally person to take me down resulting in my ultimate demise. I wasn't Mycroft. I wasn't a soulless, heartless genius.

"We both know that's not true, Bree. I do have a heart and at one point I gave it to you." He replied, his composure slightly falling as I heard his voice crack. I had hurt him and he had hurt me. He had given me my heart on a platter of spikes and I had torn his. Yet he told me he had one when his heart was torn way before I had gotten to it in the first place. He said "Yes, and I do remember you being the one to break it off. Besides that doesn't count." I explained, wiping the tears away from my face and grasping my strong composure back whole heartedly.

"Just please try and remember what's at stake here, you need to follow through with the mission." Mycroft stated in exasperation. He needed me to go through with this, I knew he did. It was the only way to help his brother. But did he really have to break him to do so? And did he really need me to do it? There were a million girls out there just begging for a job like this, yet Mycroft chose me. ME. A weak little girl with no control over her emotions.

"I'll try Myc, but I can't promise you anything." I stated giving him the closest thing to a promise as I could. I didn't want to have anything to do with this mission, but I had to. And maybe just maybe I could. But not now and definitely not anytime soon.

"Thank you. Now stop fooling around back at the flat and go help Sherlock." Mycroft demanded, playfulness back once again in his voice. It was time for some fun, it time to get back in the game.

"Where are they now?" I asked, slamming my book shut and jumping up to grab my coat.

"I haven't the slightest idea." He replied, a smirk most definitely resting on his lips as he watched me in entertainment through one of his silly little cameras.

"Oh come on Mycroft! You always know, now tell me." I said with the roll of my eyes. He was playing now, and he was playing like a cheater.

"They're heading to see Sebastian Wilkes, they're currently on their way to The Ledbury. You know where it is." Mycroft answered flippantly, my hands instantly reaching the door handle as I rushed down the stairs and onto the landing.

"Of course I do, you did after all take me there on our first date." I replied, opening the door and putting on my coat as I awaited an answer from Mycroft. I knew he didn't like memories like that, but then again it didn't count so who knew how he would reply.

"Only the best for you my dearest, Abrielle." He finally said, a sigh of annoyance falling out of my mouth.

"Oh shut it. I'll talk to you later Myc." I said, rushing down the street as I speed walked to my destination.

"Keep in touch my dear." He said happily, a small laugh bubbling up my throat. Oh Mycroft, why would you ever think I'd call you again. He knew me. He knew I hated talking on the phone and that I'd probably just swing by his office or something later. And he really thinks I'd do the one thing I hate with a passion. Idiot. But my stupid idiot friend nonetheless.

"Laters." I replied, instantly hanging up afterwards. This was it I'm back in the game. Mycroft may not have given me a lead, but he had given me information. And that information had given me a plan. Screw reading a book all day in the boring living room, I'm going to ruin the Black Lotus and catch me a killer! Time for an adventure! 


	10. Houdini. Harry Houdini ... Just The Female Version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I am the architect of my own destruction, and now I am forever cursed to hurt the ones I love most."  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.  
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certainly a genius.  
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past. 
> 
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?  
> 

_ SHERLOCK'S POV _

It had been a tedious three weeks, two days and two hours since Van Coon's inevitable death, and I was bored out of my mind. This case was dragging on much longer than it should have in my opinion and it was really annoying me. We had been running around day after day after day trying to find a lead, something ... anything that could lead us closer to our killer but to no avail. It was if we had had that one day at the crime scene and then the trail had gone cold. Usually I could solve a case in one or two days, a week tops. But this was taking forever to solve! It was like having Abrielle around had slowed down my processing and ability to think. I didn't quite understand her. She was a genius though. A genius with the ability to break down the very essence of who you are in the matter of seconds. She was impressive. What's more she was a Watson. She was John but smarter ... and more feminine and prettier obviously. She was just so distracting, always popping into my thoughts at random. It was the reason I've been avoiding her for so long, I left with John before she woke up every morning, I came home with John when I knew she was out of the flat shopping, or fast asleep late at night. I just couldn't face her. I mean, imagine what would happen if I saw her face to face! It would most certainly be worse then simply thinking about her. If I saw her my brain would be consumed with thoughts of her! I would have no rest from her. She never joined us when we ran around looking for clues, so she quite obviously wanted to avoid me as well, most likely for the same reason. Which actually made it easier for me in knowing that she understood. Oh here I go again. Good lord. Could I really not go five minutes without being bothered with thoughts of the youngest Watson. Honestly! So back to the topic on hand. Leads in the case. Yes, I know we haven't found a lead yet per say, but today I was going to give news to Sebastian and see if maybe he has another clue for us. I had gotten word from his secretary that he would be coming to The Ledbury for the evening, so here we are. John and I walked ever closer to the table. Listening as Sebastian's loud voice carried on throughout the area alerting us of where he was sitting.

"... and he's left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course can never be done!" I heard him say to his buddies, laughing at his obviously lame joke. We walked closer, waiting for someone to notice us. Finally after a good five minutes of just standing there like an idiot I had enough.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." I said as loudly as I possibly could. Sebastian turned around, looking at me with a malice glare. I know that I interrupted his meet up with his friends, but really he should have seen this coming. He knew who I was. He had after all beat me up in Uni. He knew just how rude I could be, and yet he still glared at me like an upset parent when I disrupted his silly little dinner plans.

"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" Sebastian inquired, looking at me with a very cross look. He was angry at me, yet I saved him from the criticism that he would most likely get for that god awful joke he had made. Just from the look of the other gentlemen at the table you could tell that they hated him. In fact one keeps checking his phone for the time, one has the fakest smile in the world placed on his lips, and the other one that sat directly across from Sebastian kept looking around the restaurant as if he were bored and wanted to leave as soon as possible. If I hadn't shown up everyone would have up and left by now. No, I was doing Sebastian a favor, and how does he repay me? With anger. Besides, he had hired in the first place, if he didn't like how I presented the information he could go crying to someone else for help. 

"I don't think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders – someone who worked in your office – was killed." I explained, giving him a pointed look. His face immediately morphed into an appalled expression, surprised at the depressing news. Everyone took death so badly, as if someone dying was such a bad thing. All it meant was that someone was too weak to live in a harsh world such as our own. Deaths happened all the time, in fact 1.8 of the human population died every single second. They were a constant thing as well as inevitable. We're born, we live, we reproduce, we die. It's the circle of life, and it is something that won't ever change. So what's the point in mourning a dead person, when inevitably you'll be dead soon yourself? Just as I was about to explain all of this in front of everyone, a voice ... A very familiar voice in fact stopped me from doing so.

"So in knowing that someone was killed, I'd say it's time for a nice little chat. Don't ya think?" Abrielle questioned sarcastically, pushing past me as she made herself known to Sebastian. She rose her left eyebrow at the man placing her hands on her hips, making herself look like the exact definition of intimidation.

While her and Sebastian had a full out staring competition John looked at me in confusion.

"How does she just appear out of thin air?" He whispered to me, looking over towards his younger sibling as though she were a puzzle to be figured out.

"It beats me, besides shouldn't you know more than me, it is after all your sister we're talking about." I replied to him with the shake of my head. I just didn't understand that woman. She was a fire without a flame, a puzzle with missing pieces, and a question mark with no answer. First of all, how did she know we were here? She could have asked the secretary as well but her shift had ended an hour ago. How did she know exactly when to enter the conversation? Had she been listening? No, she couldn't have been, I would have noticed her right off the bat. And the larger question still was; who was she? She was Abrielle Watson, John's younger sister. That part was obvious. But who was she really? What was she hiding from us? The secret that was so dear to her that she would hurt people to keep it safe. Who was Abrielle? And better yet, why didn't John know about her either?

"What?" I heard Sebastian reply in total confusion, snapping me completely out of my thoughts.

"One of your workers was killed, and unless you want us to arrest you for obstruction of justice, I'd suggest you come with us." Abrielle replied to the man, looking as though she were extremely irritated with him.

"You can't do bull. He's a private detective, he's not the bloody police. He has no authority over me." Sebastian argued, pointing over towards me and John in an accusing manner. I glanced over at Abrielle, her eyes darkening as she got very, very angry at Seb's reply. She was very, very cross now, and being on the receiving end of that anger was never a good place to be. I can tell you that from experience. Something was going to happen, Abrielle was going to do something, I didn't know what, but I knew one thing was for sure ... this was not going to end well at all for Sebastian.

"He may be a private detective, but i'm so much more." Abrielle replied after taking a nice calming breath, holding out the same wallet I had stolen from her at the crime scene. Interesting, she carried it around with her. Maybe I could steal it off her person one of these days. I knew whatever was in there had to do with her job, the question was, what kind of job was it?

"My apologies, I didn't know." Sebastian apologized, a blush of red streaming across his cheeks due to embarrassment.

"Yeah, well no one is supposed to. Now come with us or I'll have you arrested on the spot." Abrielle replied, strutting away immediately after. We quickly followed after her, my long legs keeping up with hers as John and Sebastian walked meekly behind us. Her job was obviously the secret that she wanted to hide. And it had to be something dangerous or something John wouldn't approve of otherwise it wouldn't be a secret in the first place. And if it had to do with having more power than us then there was only so many jobs it could be. But which one was it?

"Wait, who was killed?" Sebastian asked in confusion, trying his best to keep up with our fast pace. Abrielle sighed, looking back towards John as if pleading him to explain to the idiot.

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." John explained, rolling his eyes at Abrielle's antics.

"Now stop asking questions and walk." Abrielle demanded, looking back towards Sebastian with a harsh glare. She was fire alright, and now I've found her flame. Not only that but now I knew even more about her. I was so close to finding out the great Abrielle Watson's secret. I was so close to victory, the only thing standing in my way was that stupid wallet. I need to get the wallet, somehow, someway without her knowing. That wallet was the deciding factory in our little game of chess. I just need to take her king and destroy her chances of victory. She better watch her back, because that wallet was her king and I was coming in for the capture. I was going to win.


	11. You Don't Own Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I am the architect of my own destruction, and now I am forever cursed to hurt the ones I love most."  
>  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certainly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past. 
> 
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?   
>  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> "Emotions are a weakness when it is only an individual that feels it. Emotions are a strength when you have a friend by your side to feel it with you. You are not alone not unless you choose to be."

_ABRIELLE'S POV_

I lead them towards the men's toilets knowing that we wouldn't be disrupted there. After all it was the only place in a restaurant that you could talk without others hearing you. I knew that it was risky since I was a female, and you know not ... male. But it was the only logical choice considering that there were three of them and only one of me. I opened the door, making sure that no one was in the room, and when I found no one I quickly ushered the other three in after me. I then shut the door softly behind me and turned to face the group of idiots behind me. Yeah, that's right I said idiots. All three of them were a pain in my arse. John was my brother ... but on the other hand he was a really overprotective one that pushed my buttons. Sebastian I just flat out hated because of the way he treated me when we first met, and well ... Sherlock wasn't that bad, he was just a problem. I was falling hard for the detective and every second I spent in his presence was another second that I lost track of who I was and what I had to do. They were the three most annoying people in the world. To me at least. Alright, enough dilly dallying. We needed information, and we were running out of time.

"Tell us everything you know about Van Coon, anything you know could be vital to this case." I demanded looking over towards Sebastian. If we were going to get anywhere with the guy it was going to be with demands, not questions. He was after all an arrogant little prick. He thought he was smarter then everyone and everything, so demanding things instead of asking would put him in his place rather than raising his ego.

"Harrow; Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while, so ..."

"... you gave him the Hong Kong accounts." John cut in, stopping Sebastian in the middle of his sentence. Did John really just do something rude? What was the world coming to? Nah, maybe he just didn't even realise he had been rude. He was after all that type of person. So ignorant.

"Lost five mill in a single morning; made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had." Sebastian explained, as he went to wash his hands in the sink. Wait? He lost that much money and made it back that quickly? How? Was he working with the Black Lotus Gang? That would at least make sense, I mean he was after all dead at the hands of the gang so it would explain why he had been threatened and killed. Maybe he had stolen something from them during one of his jobs? It would help explain the signature origami lotus at the scene.

"Who'd wanna kill him?" John asked, looking towards me in confusion. Poor John, and his slow idiotic brain.

"We all make enemies, John." I explained, looking at him pointedly. This was common sense, everyone wants to kill someone out there in the world. We all have those people that we can't stand ... and don't even get me started on revenge. Van Coon had obviously stolen something which caused the Black Lotus gang to react violently in return. Revenge, simple as that.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." John replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes at me.

"You'd be surprised." I whispered quietly, sighing, thinking back to one of my missions. I was shot at A LOT on a daily basis, that part is true. Most of the time however I get away with a scratch or two not a bullet to the head. But not that time. Not the time I was running from him. It was horrible. More than that it was torture. He had finally found me after keeping hidden for so long. I still remember the malice smile that he wore, and the way he kissed me that sent disgusting shivers down my spine. That meeting had cost me two bullets in my chest and a visit to the emergency room. Though, it wasn't the bullets that had harmed me. No, they were easily removed and I was perfectly fine the next day. No, it was the heartbreak and confliction that I felt deep in my chest after that. People have enemies, and contradictory to John's belief sometimes they did get people hurt.

I looked up, the beep of a text alert snapping me out of my solemn thoughts. It didn't sound like Sherlock's, and John left his phone back at the flat, so it had to be Sebastian's phone.

"It's my Chairman. The police have been on to him. Apparently they're telling him it was a suicide." Sebastian stated, looking down towards his phone, only proving my hypothesis correct. The Chairman must be keeping Sebastian updated on the case, the only question is why is he telling Sebastian that it was a suicide? In fact, why were the police even saying that in the first place? It was murder. Sherlock and I had even proved it!

"Well, they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered." Sherlock stated in irritation, clearly agreeing with me. We had both shown the DI exactly why it was murder and he knew it wasn't suicide. HE KNEW! Yet, he was going around telling people that the poor guy had killed himself. The one thing I hated most was people who knew they were wrong, yet THEY STILL go along with their original idea. Stupid arrogant arses! Van Coon was MURDERED. Get it right people!

"Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that and neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Don't get sidetracked." Sebastian replied in a demanding voice, glaring at all three of us in turn. No ... I'm sorry. Just no. Nobody told me what to do, not ever. I made my own rules, people didn't make them for me. Who did this pig think he was?! Was he not paying attention when I showed him my job title? Because, I own him. I can do whatever the hell I want with him! Not the other way around!

"Yeah, well I'm in charge of this investigation and I have every right to do as I please." I explained, glaring at him with fire ablaze in my eyes. Just because his Chairman was told it was a murder didn't mean he had to tell us off for investigating. The police had told the guy wrong. Besides that, why was he telling me what to do in the first place? I was in charge and I make the rules, Sebastian had no say in this at all.

"I am aware of that, and if you need more information you can make a meeting with my secretary." Sebastian told me, handing me a card with his business hours on it. Was he even being serious anymore? A meeting. Really. Nope, sorry I'm not that kind of person. And on top of him telling me to set up a meeting, he feels the need to command me around some more?! I'm not just one of his clueless girl toys, I actually have a mind of my own, unlike some people. So, instead of acting like an idiot and well not ... me, I glared at him instead, placing the card in my pocket for later use ... you know in case I needed to mark a page in a book, or start a fire.

"Stop being a cock and tell me what I need to know, or Mr. Wilkes you'll see yourself executed." I demanded in a harsh tone. I realised that at the time it was just a threat to scare Sebastian into doing what I wanted. But really, I could execute him if I felt like it. Not legally per say, but he could have an 'accident' and end up dying from falling down some stairs ... a few hundred times or so. I would do it if I had to, he did deserve it after all.

"Your threats don't faze me Ms. Watson. You're a female, you can't do anything in a man's society." Sebastian replied, giving me a smirk, looking at me as though he had won. He thought he won. With. A. COMMENT. LIKE. THAT. No, no, no, no. He just got himself in even more trouble. He thought he was stronger. Because he was male. He thought he could boss me around. Because he was male. But most of all he thought my threat was a lie. All because I was FEMALE.

"Really now." I replied sarcastically, wrinkling my nose in anger. Not only was Sebastian a total pervert looking at me the way he had when we had met, but now he was also a sexist pig. Wow. Who would have seen this coming? No wonder he looked at women like they were his toys. They were actually toys to him. He saw females as the lower class, the peasants. Well, um sorry to tell you this Mr.Wilkes but um ... we don't live in the dark ages anymore! Females aren't objects that are sold for a cow and some sheep. We have our own minds, and I happen to be able to do what I want when I want which includes killing you.

"You may threaten me with these kinds of things, but they aren't going to actually happen. You can't actually do anything, all they are are empty threats." Sebastian replied, just angering me even further.

"And why are they empty threats? Because I'm a woman?" I asked him, holding my anger in as best as possible. Did he even realize that some of the strongest women in the world are Female. I mean the queen was a bloody woman for crying out loud and she could kill a whole country if she wanted to. Was he really telling me that the only reason that my threats had no merit was simply because I had girl parts. Because that sure as hell is what it sounded like.

"Exactly. Now I'll be going." Sebastian replied, setting his phone in his pocket. That was it! No one EVER called me a liar. Not because of my sex. No, because that means you're calling every woman a liar. You hurt one you hurt them all. My anger was at it's highest peak by now, to the point where I was blinded by red. So instead of cooling down and letting Sebastian walk away, I let the anger control me. The hate coursing through my veins and the rage beating wildly within my heart melted together as one and caused me to react, tripping him instantly as he passed me to walk out the door. It was like the spy in me was causing this reaction, causing me to act like a mindless drone. It was like I was stuck within a robot version of myself watching as I pulled Sebastian up from the floor by his hair and slammed him forcefully against the wall. A small part of me regretting everything I was and would do to the man in my grasp as I kneed him in the bollocks. And the tiniest part of me wincing as I punched him so hard in the nose that a sickening crunch resounded through the bathroom signifying that it was most definitely broken. I watched as the anger driven shell of myself let the man go, watching as he sunk to the floor in pain, dark crimson blood spilling out of his nose and painting the tiles red as he laid on the cold floor barely even conscious himself.

"You got me. I'm just a lying, deceitful woman that can't do anything in a man's world ... who's trained in over 200 ways to kill you. Afraid yet?" I heard myself say to the man, leaning over his shaking body. I watched as I punched him one last time square in the jaw, knocking the guy into unconsciousness, my fingers calmly finding the business card and ripping it to shreds throwing it on the guy as I stormed out. I stood outside the bathroom, my composure breaking just the tiniest bit as the rage slowly leaked out of my body leaving the calmer version of myself standing there in shock at what I had done. I had hurt Sebastian. Yes, he deserved it. But the rage had overcome me, the spy in me urging me to react to his rude comments. I hadn't even thought twice before I had broken the guy's nose for crying out loud! And ... oh my gosh ... John and Sherlock had been watching me! Maybe I should go apologize?

"Did she just say that she's trained in over 200 hundred ways to kill people?!" I heard John scream through the door, telling me that maybe it wouldn't be the best idea to walk in there at the moment.

"Yes, I believe she did." Sherlock replied to him, causing my eyes to widen from the laughs I heard coming from him. Was this really that amusing to him? Why wasn't he freaking out? No, he wouldn't freak out. He was Sherlock after all, but why isn't he at least concerned about this new information?

"And you're not the tiniest worried about that?! She's keeping something from us, Sherlock!!!" I heard John yell in surprise. Wait a second ... surprise? He was really surprised I was hiding something from him? Since when? Hadn't Sherlock told him that I was hiding something weeks ago?

"Yes, I've told you that already. Now the question is ... who does she work for." I heard Sherlock answer, John huffing in annoyance beside him. So Sherlock had told him, he just hadn't believed him. Sherlock was getting there he knew that my so called secret had something to do with my job. He was close.

"What are you talking about?!" John replied back in confusion, clearly not understanding where Sherlock was going with this.

"This obviously has to do with her job, don't you get it John! Only certain jobs would need her to be trained in killing people. So she obviously works in a field that has her training in that specific way." Sherlock said with joy coating his tone causing me to sigh in relief. Sherlock wasn't hating the fact that I killed people for a living which was a very good thing, a very good thing indeed. Of course he would be happy, me killing people would mean more cases for him, though I doubt he'd want to solve them since they would all lead to me.

"Great so my baby sister is either an assassin, a bad guy, or a spy." I heard John reply sarcastically. He was getting so close to my secret, and he wasn't even being serious! Yes, I'm one of those things ... technically speaking.

"Basically, yes." Sherlock replied as though he were reading my mind. Yes, I was one of those things ... well, I liked to think so anyways.

"This is great! This is bloody fantastic!" John said yet again sarcastically, the tiniest bit of anger seeping into his voice.

"It is isn't it, it is getting rather interesting." I heard Sherlock say, a smile most likely placing itself on his face simply from the way he had said it. So this was interesting for him was it. This felt like a game to him, huh? Yeah, well he'd never figure it out. He may figure out what I do, or even where I work, but Sherlock would never figure out who I work with. I mean come on It's his own brother for crying out loud, it was too obvious! He needed everything to be complicated and different, but this was so simple that the answer would never even cross his mind.

"I was being sarcastic!" John explained, thinking that possibly Sherlock hadn't understood him. Poor John, he thought that Sherlock knew nothing when it came to human nature, yet he was wrong. He understood sarcasm, in fact I swear to god that Sherlock was and always will be the king of sarcasm. John didn't need to explain why he was reacting the way he was. In fact it was a waste of time.

"I know, and I was being serious." Sherlock replied, smiling at John. His voice getting closer as he made his way to the door. I slide carefully behind one of the tables, making sure that I was well hidden even for Sherlocks deducing eyes as a very happy Sherlock and a very angry John left the bathroom, heading towards the door of the restaurant. They were so close to figuring out my secret. So close. It was only a matter of time until he knew for definite. When I had sacrificed my queen he had an idea, but now that idea had gotten closer and closer to who I truly was. He was almost to a checkmate, but what he didn't know is that I wasn't going to give him the victory of winning. He thought that he had just about everything figured out, but I was going to steal all that glory last second. I was going to outright tell them what my job was. That way Sherlock wouldn't win, and instead just like any other game I would win out of default. I'd tell them alright but not now, not yet. I'd tell them when the time is right. I'll tell them when Sherlock is one step away from checkmate. Let him think he's winning, because really in the long run I'll be the winner of this little game of ours. I'd win. Oh, I'd win.

 


	12. Denial & Flashbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I am the architect of my own destruction, and now I am forever cursed to hurt the ones I love most."  
>  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certainly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past. 
> 
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?   
>  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> "Emotions are a weakness when it is only an individual that feels it. Emotions are a strength when you have a friend by your side to feel it with you. You are not alone not unless you choose to be."

ABRIELLE'S POV

Not long after leaving The Ledbury did I find myself on my way to Mycroft's office, a bottle of his favorite wine placed firmly in my hand. I needed a break. A break from this case, from Sebastian, but most of all from Sherlock. He always acted so immature, it was so IRRITATING. Even if he was one of the handsomest ... most intelligent man in the world. No, no, no. He wasn't handsome. Nope. Not one bit. I needed to stop thinking of him in that way. I'm not in love with Sherlock bloody Holmes! Not one bit. Oh, but the way he smiled at me, and his eyes they were just soooo ... No. Stop. Get a grip. I can't fall in love, not again. Not after what had happened last time. My heart had broken last time, broken to shatters. I couldn't bare a loss like that. Not again. Sherlock was an annoying man with no feelings, he'd never love me back not ever. Loving him would be like loving a brick wall ... it would never happen. I just can't fall in love. Not with anyone, and especially not with Sherlock. He was my coworker and nothing more. And that's the end of it. I walked into Mycroft's office, the smile on his face snapping me right out of my thoughts. Thankfully.

"A 2001 Saint-Émilion, just like you asked for." I told him, placing the bottle on his desk, a smile on my lips as I sat comfortably in the seat across from him.

"You remembered." He exclaimed in faux surprise looking at me with happiness glinting in his eyes.

"Of course I did. It was the first bottle of wine you ordered when I met you for the first time." I explained, crossing my feet over the arms of the chair, watching as he poured wine into two glasses. I remembered our meeting like it was yesterday. I was the frightened, broken young teenager and he was the big bad businessman that had invited me to dinner to discuss business matters. I remember when he had ordered the wine he had said that it was the perfect wine for the perfect girl like myself. It had been the first time in a long time that I had actually smiled. He had made me smile.

"So how is the case going?" I heard him ask, taking me away from my thoughts for the time being.

"You should know, you were after all watching, no doubt." I replied to him, rolling my eyes. He was always watching, especially me. He cared about me ... even if he didn't want to admit it. I remember one time when I had been captured by a terrorist group bent on killing me and getting revenge. In fact I remember it like it was yesterday. Or at least I remembered it from what my partner had told me ...

______________________________________________________________________________

_"Mr. Holmes I need to talk to you." A young man with dark brown eyes and short cut raven hair exclaimed, running into a wide office, looking everywhere for the older Holmes in a frantic haste. This was a huge emergency that needed to be dealt with immediately! He needed her coworker ... he needed Mycroft Holmes!_

_"Please Mr. Hunter, I'm in a meeting." Mycroft exclaimed in a stern tone turning towards the young agent, that he knew to be Abrielle's partner. What got him in such a fuss? It must be important if he was storming in here during one of the most important meetings of the British Government this year. Couldn't he tell him this important information at a later time, I mean really._

_"I'm sorry, but I need to talk to you now!" Agent Hunter yelled in urgency, walking over to the man. He needed help. She was gone, maybe even dead. And no one would care enough to save her but Mycroft. No one. He had to tell Mr. Holmes now, not an hour from now, or a week from now, or a month from now. Now._

_"Not at this second, I'm busy. Now please see yourself out Mr. Hunter, I'll talk to you when I'm done. Now I'm sorry gentlemen, continue with what you were saying about ..."_

_"Abrielle's been taken." Agent Hunter blurted out, stopping Mycroft mid sentence. He was conflicted, and Hunter saw that. He wanted her safe, but this meeting was important, Hunter knew that. But She was more important. She was always more important._

_"Whom was she taken by? Mycroft asked, trying his best to keep himself calm. Abrielle. His best friend Abrielle was taken by the villains during her mission. Taken by the bad guys, the murderers, and the thieves. She was taken, and this time he wasn't so sure she would survive._

_"She was taken by the Ricoletti gang. The one that wants her killed for taking down their leader last time." Hunter explained, giving him a depressed look. She was taken. Abrielle, his amazing companion. His partner, and most of all his friend. She was taken from him taken by an enemy ... somebody that wants her dead. And it was all his fault._

"Are you sure?" Myc asked, one tear finding it's way down his cheek as he pushed it roughly away, trying his best to stop his emotions from flowing. He couldn't care. Not about her. Caring was a disadvantage, it would end up killing her. He had to think rationally, he had to find the answer to questions and find his way back to her. Was she alive? Where was she? How was she taken? These were the questions that needed to be asked. Otherwise Abrielle was as good as dead, if this was the Ricoletti gang, and he was sure it was, they would stop at nothing to make her suffer to the brink of death and then kill her then and there. They were relentless.

_" I know it was them, they knocked me out when I saw the black spade on the leader's cheek." Hunter explained, remembering the scuffle Abrielle and the leader had had before she was knocked unconscious. He had tried, really, he had tried to save her, but it was no use, not long after the man had turned towards him had he been knocked unconscious as well, the darkness taking him. She was captured by one of her worst enemies and it was all his fault._

_"My lord, it really is them. We need to save her now!" Mycroft screamed, rushing as fast as he could out the door and down the hall, agent Hunter not too far behind him. Abrielle was in danger, serious danger. And if she was going to get out of this alive, they needed to find her, and fast._

______________________________________________________________________________

I remember Hunter telling me that after he had told him about my kidnapping Mycroft had literally ransacked the world searching for me. He brought in all his best spies trying to find me and then a month later when they had finally found me, my body beaten and bloodied to a pulp, and my leg broken he had ran to me with a tear or two streaming down his face, his crystal blue eyes just screaming that he was concerned for my wellbeing. We never quite talked about it that much, but I knew just from his face that he was very concerned. It was the reason that he always had at least one or two cameras in my house, so he knew I was safe. Like I said, even if he never admitted it, Mycroft cared, and he was always watching to make sure that I was alright.

"Of course I was. You did stupendously while fighting Mr. Wilkes, I must say. Though I wouldn't necessarily encourage that you harm an unarmed citizen again." Mycroft replied, giving me a pointed glare. An unarmed citizen? Really Mycroft? Is that the best you could come up with? All he was doing now was coming up with sucky excuses for not 'supporting' violence.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You don't support violence and all that shebang, but you do know that isn't going to do anything to stop me, don't you." I told him, throwing him my trademark smirk. A warning, Seriously? He was saying this like he hated any form of violence when I know for a fact that he nearly killed a man because the guy touched me in the wrong way! He was more violent then anyone in the world! Besides that, he was talking to me as though it would stop me in some way, shape or form. Like a warning's going to ever stop me! I'd harm whoever stood in my way, thank you very much. It wasn't like I killed the guy or anything, all I did was beat the crap out of him. Didn't Mycroft know anything about me?

"Of course my dear. You are my ... friend. I know not to mess with you. You are a Watson after all, you don't take being told what to do lightly." He explained, giving me a faux smile as he handed me a glass of wine. Of course I didn't take orders from people, I wasn't just a slave. I was a human person with thoughts, and ideas, and plans. I didn't need some idiot pulling my strings, I was unattached and that is exactly how I liked it. I'm nobody's puppet.

"Damn straight." I said raising the glass to my lips and drinking the glass dry in one gulp. Yes, this conversation was getting my mind away from thoughts about a um ... certain someone. But it seems even at times like this, especially in the presence of said person's family members, my thoughts tended to turn towards him. I was stressing myself out from trying not to think about him and all it did was make me think about it. Basically all it was was a giant circle of stress, and let me tell you ... it was ANNOYING.

"Bad day." Mycroft commented, snapping me out of my thoughts as he looked at my now empty glass in amusement.

"Babysitting your brother is no easy task, Mycroft, especially with the mission on mind." I said, sighing at simply the thought of what I'd have to do. Babysitting Sherlock was enough already. But the mission, the mission he had given me was triple the amount of stress than that. Usually I didn't get this worked up over a mission, in fact usually I would receive it, prepare for it, and complete it within a very short amount of time. It was just a job to me, a job that was very much like a game, and games were not stressful. But this mission ... this was different. This time it was personal, and most of all I'd not only be hurting my target but myself as well. Babysitting Sherlock was nothing compared to what I'd have to do for this job. And let me just say, babysitting Sherlock was about as dangerous and annoying as anything.

"He is quite hellish to hang out with." Mycroft agreed, giving me a small smirk, as though he were joking with me. Seriously? Hellish? That's it, really?

"That's the understatement of the century." I mumbled, rolling my eyes at him. Sherlock was more then just hellish to hang out with, he was an absolute nightmare. He was a helpless baby that couldn't do anything for himself, oh and let's not forget the tantrums. He's always complaining, and if something doesn't go his way he annoys the heck out of me until either John or I give in to his pleas. He's so irritating!

"You know, he is quite like you. It's why I tasked you to be on this mission in the first place." Mycroft spoke up, snapping me out of my anger driven thoughts.

"Yeah I noticed. Double the fun right." I said, looking at him with a sarcastic smile. I noticed. Hell yeah I noticed. We both were aggressive, and annoyed easily, and had a knack for deducing things about people. I noticed that we were the same, painfully so. But he had something that I didn't. He had control. He didn't feel, he didn't let other people sway his emotions. He was distant, and kept his heart and head blocked off. He'd never have his heart broken, yet I still could. I had emotions, and you could clearly see that. I had a heart that was so easy to reach, so easy to take and simply rip to shreds. I was emotional. I was a Watson. And it was something I've always struggled with.

"Just be careful around him Bree, he deals with a lot of dangerous people." Mycroft said, giving me a concerned glance.

"I'll be fine Myc, don't worry." I replied giving him a reassuring smile. I'd be fine, after all I did know self defense. No one could hurt me. I'd be perfectly okay. Sherlock was a danger, that I could admit considering he was always solving murderers and looking for very dangerous people. But so was I. It wasn't like I was any safer myself considering I had so many enemies in so many places. Mycroft shouldn't be worried, not one bit. I can take care of myself.

"I always worry, constantly." He replied, giving me a sad frown, his eyes glazed over with concern as he looked at me. Poor Myc, always worrying, always fretting. He didn't have to worry about me yet he did. He cared ... about me. Mycroft Holmes, the iceman, the man said to have no heart or emotions or a soul whatsoever cared about someone. And that someone was worthless, annoying, emotional me.

"Oh, Mycroft. I'll be alright. Trust me." I said, getting up from my seat, and giving him a kiss on the cheek, wrapping my arms around him from behind. He needed to trust me. I was a trained agent with about seven years of field work, I'd be fine. And anyways, it wasn't like I was being thrown into a fire or anything, all I was doing was helping Sherlock with a case. I'd be fine. Mycroft needed to give me some credit, I wasn't just a helpless girl or some damsel in distress or anything like that. I was a hardcore spy, with skills like a ninja ... or at least I'd like to think so. He just needed to give me some trust ... just a little trust that I could and would make it out of this mission alive.

"I do trust you. Just don't get hurt." Myc replied, looking at me with worry, fearing for my safety.

"I promise. Now I must be leaving, the Black Lotus isn't going to catch itself." I said dropping my hands at my sides and walking towards the door. I wanted Shan ... no, more than that, I needed Shan caught. She was a part of some unfinished business that needed to be taken care of, and one thing I hated was unfinished business. It was time to finish this once and for all. It was time to take Shan and her silly little gang down. And me sitting around all day talking to Mycroft, was not doing anything to catch her. I needed to leave now, and I needed to catch me a killer.

"I'll see you later, call me when you have Shan in custody." Mycroft replied, a small laugh leaving his mouth.

"Until then." I replied, walking out of the room with my hands in my pockets, and a smile on my face. I was ready. I was ready to face Sherlock, ready to admit to myself that I actually did love him. Ready to finish this stupid little killing spree of Shan's, but most of all I was ready to deal with all the stress in my life all at once. I was a winner, a fighter, and a conqueror of fears, and I was not ready to let stress consume me. I was going to fight harder, and smile wider. I may not ever tell Sherlock that I loved him, not out loud anyway. And I may never complete the mission, or turn into an emotionless, heartless bastard like Sherlock. But one thing was for definite, I'd find Shan, and when I do I'd give her hell. Because one thing I never did was leave loose strings attached. I'd find her alright and when I did she'd die.

_________________________________________________________________________  


	13. Wicked Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I am the architect of my own destruction, and now I am forever cursed to hurt the ones I love most."  
>  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certainly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past. 
> 
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?   
>  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> "Emotions are a weakness when it is only an individual that feels it. Emotions are a strength when you have a friend by your side to feel it with you. You are not alone not unless you choose to be."

SHERLOCK'S POV

Poison. Poison describes everything about her. Her hair, her eyes, her personality, everything so perfect that it poisons you just by looking at her. Her lips darker than fresh droplets of blood and poisonous than the bite of a snake. Her eyes sharper than a fresh frozen icicle that would cut right through you with just a glance and so much like mine it's like staring into a mirror. Her skin paler than a ghost, and sicker than a child that took it's final breath, and hair darker than the darkest night without a moon to shine the way. She was evil, she was so nice ... so kind at first, and then the poison kicks in. She wasn't a butterfly with the beauty of a million queens, she was a snake, a snake that gives no warning and strikes within the blink of an eye. She's a manipulative genius with secrets beyond anyone's single imagination. But that isn't all, She eases her way into your life. With just a single glance she has you locked under her spell. Just one glance, and it makes you yearn for more. Just one glance and she's all you think about, constantly. She was an evil beyond all evils. Abrielle Watson. That was her name, a name that only revealed itself to you when she had marked you, poisoned you, made you hers. She was a shadow, appearing and disappearing as if by magic. That was her alright, and yes ... she is all I can think about, don't judge me. I mean, how did she just appear and disappear wherever she wanted to go? I surely would have heard her behind me being the detective I am. Unless, she has training in that sort of field, which wouldn't surprise me. Then, if that were the case, how did she know where we were all the time? She didn't just know, that was for sure and it certainly wasn't luck. So did that mean someone was telling her where we were? Was someone tracking us? And the one question ... the main question I wanted to know the answer to is why am I always thinking about her? I knew that she was a puzzle to me, a puzzle that needed solving, but why was she always in my thoughts? Her image was seared into my mind palace, in fact she just wandered around up there looking through memories and things that were not even hers! No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get her out of my head! It was the reason that I avoided her now. I didn't care where she was, or when she'd be back, I just wanted her away from here. I wanted my mind clear to solve this case, the case of the dead banker. I wanted to find out what the graffiti, the so called warning meant. And Abrielle constantly bouncing around my thoughts was definitely not helping that. I just couldn't do it! Not without help. She was distracting me too much to solve this all on my lonesome. I needed someone to tell me what needed to be done, question my every move, someone like ... John. Yes, John would do. He was an idiot with a low IQ and a high tolerance for questioning every little thing. Where was he? He should be around here somewhere shouldn't he? No, he said he was doing something or another and I vaguely remember him walking out the door. But that was practically hours ago! Shouldn't he be back by now? Yes, yes he should be. In fact from John's walking pace, and the amount of steps it takes him to walk throughout London I'd say he should of been back a good ten minutes ago. Exactly ten minutes from the sound of someone ... supposedly John, walking up the stairs. I needed his help, and his help I would most certainly get, late or not.

"I said, 'Could you pass me a pen?'" I stated, not even acknowledging John's presence, in the process.

"What? When?" I heard him question, the sound of him throwing his coat onto the rack resounding through the small flat.

"'Bout an hour ago." I replied, rolling my eyes at his very human question. He was confused, there was no doubt about that. Not everyone could observe like me, but really? Asking two different questions at the same time? I'm pretty sure even a child would know what I mean by such a simple statement. When I said I asked for a pen it literally means that I want a pen, obviously.

"Didn't notice I'd gone out, then." He sighed, throwing a pen my way, my eyes not even opening for one second as I caught the pen with my left hand. Alright, yes I may have lead him on for conversation sake. I may have needed a pen before, but I didn't need it now. I was saying that to get John interested in this case, start a conversation. Not to actually write something down. And as for noticing he left, well I vaguely remember him saying he was going somewhere. I did know he left, I just ... forgot.

"Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery." John elaborated, walking towards the pictures on the mirror.

"How was it?" I questioned, trying to find out more information. He seemed almost distracted, like his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of something or someone else. I needed to know more, what was he thinking about?

"It's great. She's great." He said, looking happily towards the pictures that hung there. Who was great, who is he talking about? Maybe a woman has poisoned his mind too, slipping her toxin into him without him even noticing and corrupting his mind.

"Who?" I asked him, trying to find out, who if anyone had damned the pair of us with such ill fate. Who was great? Who was this mystery she that had consumed all of John's mind leaving him just as distracted as me?

"The job." He announced, snapping himself out of his distracted thoughts.

"She?" I asked, trying to figure out who exactly he was referring to. He wasn't talking about the Job, he was talking about a feline, the devil that had sunk her claws into him. It couldn't be Abrielle, I knew that for certain now considering he looked more joyful, as if he were daydreaming. Siblings never did that, they bickered and rolled their eyes at each other and looked at eachother as if they were better than the other, not with joy. Besides, the probability that John saw Abrielle at his job interview is next to none, which obviously means it's another woman. But who?

"... It." He quickly corrected, staring at the pictures with fake interest as though he didn't want to have this conversation.

"So in the short amount of time I've been out John's managed to get a girlfriend and you've managed to do absolutely nothing." A voice from the doorway proclaimed, a voice so very familiar it took all my self control not to look up at the evil beyond all evils that had cursed me. I don't know how she knew we were going to be here first of all, I mean we could be half way across London trying to solve the case for all she knew. And second, not only did she figure out John's distracting thoughts so easily but she openly mocked me in front of others. This needs to end now, I need to set the record straight once and for all.

"I haven't been doing nothing ... in fact I've done much more than you have." I stated with a smile, turning to where she stood in the doorway.

"Sure you were." She mocked rolling her eyes at me, and crossing her arms across her chest.

"You were out doing who knows what while I've been focusing on the case." I replied, narrowing my eyes at her, walking towards her with an icy glare. I had spent hours posting these pictures up and trying to figure out what it meant. I scoured my mind palace, searched online ... anything and everything to find out the meaning of the cypher. As far as I know she could have gone out for a stroll, nothing of importance for this case.

"You don't even know where I went? I thought you were the great genius with all the answers?" Abrielle questioned sarcastically, giving me a winning smirk.

"Yeah well I've obviously been busy." I replied, my glare turning into a frown.

"We both know that that is a load of bull." She replied cocking her hip to the side, her smile widening even further. It wasn't the complete truth, I mean I was busy ... but I have thought a lot about where she could have gone. I just couldn't come up with a plausible place she could have been!

"Whatever you say." I said flippantly, walking over to my seat and sitting down, looking back at the pictures I had previously been trying to figure out. What did it mean? I know it's a warning and it was meant for Van Coon ... but what did this threatening little note translate to? What did it mean in words?

"What have you got on the case?" Abrielle questioned, coming up to the pictures and taking a closer look. I saw her, her eyes calculating, soaking in everything ... trying to translate every little detail into a deduction. This was one thing that had us both stumped, neither of us knew what this note meant.

"Last night a journalist was shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside – exactly the same as Van Coon." I explained, watching as the gears in her head began to turn. She knew. Of course she knew, it was after all something even an idiot like John would understand. Our little gymnast has killed another one.

"Good job, you did some work. Gold Star, genius." Abrielle answered back. She gave me a sarcastic smile, all the joy in her face showing plainly in her eyes as she turned on the spot and walked casually into my room, shutting and locking the door behind her.

"She just went in your room." John remarked, looking from me towards my room in surprise. It's as if he didn't realize that I already knew this information already. I mean seriously, he was just stating the obvious. And let me tell you it was very annoying, very annoying indeed. I did have eyes after all, I could use them myself.

"I know." I replied to him, looking towards him in amusement. I couldn't very well tell her to get out of my room, and I knew better than to outright demand that she get out of my room. She could end up beating me to the floor if I ever did that. Besides, she could use my room I wasn't using it at the moment so why can't she?

"So what was that all about, the whole you've been too busy to deduct where she's been thing."

"I can't deduce her, John, that's the problem!" I exclaimed, rubbing my hand through my hair in frustration. That was the whole problem with all of this. I didn't know her, I didn't understand her, I couldn't read her.

"You did the first time you met her she told me." He said, turning to look at me in confusion. The first time didn't count ... when we met she was playing a role, a disguise to throw me away from the real her. None of that matters, what matters is here and now, and I don't know a single real thing about her. Nothing of serious importance other than the fact that she's John's sister of course.

"Yeah, but everything we know about her is a lie, the first time I met her doesn't count. Now counts John, and now I can't deduce a single thing about her. I look at her and all I see is a bunch of question marks!" I explained, my tone frantic and very much hurried. I was confused by that short feisty little hobbit, the girl with the coal black hair, and the diamond eyes. She was a mystery to me, an enigma. And unfortunately she was an enigma I just couldn't solve. She was impossible.

"Wow, the great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know something. I didn't think I'd live to see the day." John replied, looking at me with a smirk, a smirk that practically screamed that he was trying his best to rub in the fact that I was stumped on something ... and that that 'something' just happened to be his annoying little sister.

"She's an unknown, and that is something that really bothers me." I said, glancing back towards my room where the girl now was. She was the woman that haunted my dreams, the girl that I thought about everyday and every night, and the woman that beat me. She was the one person to finally stump a genius like myself. And I hate to admit it, but it bugs me so very much. I needed to know, I needed to know who she is. I needed to understand.

"You'll figure it out, you always do."

"I sure hope so, John." I replied, staring at my bedroom door thoughtfully. Who was this girl ... the girl with the claws like poison, and the lips of sugary lies and deceit. Who was this woman that fought like a million men, and acted like a child. Who was this person who was so amazing, yet such a mystery at the same time. Who was Abrielle Watson for real?

_________________________________________________________________________  


	14. Little Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " I am the architect of my own destruction, and now I am forever cursed to hurt the ones I love most."  
> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.  
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certainly a genius.  
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past. 
> 
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> "Emotions are a weakness when it is only an individual that feels it. Emotions are a strength when you have a friend by your side to feel it with you. You are not alone not unless you choose to be."  
> -  
> All materials and characters other than Abrielle, and my story changes are the BBC's

JOHN’S POV

So for some reason, not only did Abrielle and Sherlock flirt with each other now … apparently they share a room too! I mean it was after all a logical assumption considering he was just letting her stay in his room without so much as a complainant. I was really beginning to see some tension between those two. From the way they looked at each other I’d say they rather liked each other, no, sorry, not like … love is better word. They can’t go a minute without thinking about each other. And what’s more their eyes say it all. Every Time they look at each other their eyes brighten up considerably, as if they were mesmerized by each other. Yet, through all of this they act as if they can’t stand each other, as if they want to be as far away from one another as possible. The tension surrounding the pair of them when they were together was unbearable, at least for me. They loved each other yet they hated each other … they wanted to see each other, yet they wanted to be as far away from one another as they could. They were like teenagers, battling with their emotions! It was like watching a bloody soap opera for crying out loud! Couldn’t they just skip the dramatics and cut to the chase. Sherlock loves Abrielle. Sherlock loves … my sister. Alright, that just sounds very, very wrong. Sherlock doesn’t love anybody! And definitely NOT my sister, I’d die before I let my sister even kiss him! I did not want those two together, not at all! I spent my whole life trying to keep her safe ... there is no way I am going to just let her love the one man stupid enough to chase after murderers for his job. Speaking of his job, why haven’t we given the police this information yet, shouldn’t we have gone by now? What the hell were we waiting for?       

“It’s been two hours, what are we waiting for why haven’t we been to the police about this yet?” I asked, trying to make heads or tails about what Sherlock was doing not taking this information immediately to the police. 

“Your sister, that’s why.” I heard him reply, his tone distracted as he looked towards his room in concentration.  

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked him, making sure I hadn't misheard him. Did he really just say that the reason we weren’t going to the police station yet was my own sister? How is that a reason? Why would Sherlock’s excuse for us sitting here for two hours be Abrielle?   

“I’m waiting for your sister. I don’t want to leave without her.” He answered, proving that I had indeed heard him correctly. Alright, so I understand that he is seemingly in ‘love’ with my sister, but does he really need to go everywhere with her like a little love sick puppy? Couldn’t we just go to the police without her?  

“Why? What does she have to do with any of this?” I asked him, raising my eyebrow at his strange attitude. I mean, he’s been constantly trying to avoid her, and now all of a sudden he wants her help? I thought he was the great Sherlock Holmes that was smarter than everyone and anyone, or at least so he says. What was with this sudden interest in her? And why out of all of the people in the world would she help us? She never wanted to help me … ever! And she would most certainly say no to me if I even asked if she wanted to come with us. I mean she hasn’t for the past week, so why would she change her mind now? It’s not like she had anything to do with this case after all. So why in the name of all that is holy would Sherlock being waiting for her?  

“Everything, John. She has everything to do with this. She’s important. Without your little sister we wouldn’t be anywhere near finding out who was behind those murders. We need her John, she’s a genius. On another note I would like to know why she’s been in my room for so long.” Sherlock stated, looking at me in curiosity, as if he were expecting an answer from me. 

“Maybe she’s sleeping.” I said with the shrug of my shoulders. It seems logical, I mean she had after all been in there for a really long time … and there wasn’t really much she could do in Sherlock’s room. So the only explanation to why she is still in Sherlock’s room is that she’s sleeping.  

“No, she wouldn’t be, Her breathing pattern would have changed.”  

“You’ve been listening to my sister breathe, That’s creepy.” I replied, staring at Sherlock like he was insane. Liking my sister was one thing, and following her like a lovesick dog was too … but listening to her breathe THROUGH THE WALLS might I add is quite another. That’s just stalker creepy. In fact if he wasn’t one of my best friends then I definitely would have punched him in the face by now. That’s just way too far.  

“It’s not me listening it’s her breathing loudly.” Sherlock explained, rolling his eyes at my stupidity. So either I’m right and Sherlock is a stalker, or Sherlock has been holding out on me and forgot to mention the fact that he was born with the power of super hearing. Either way it would have been a whole lot easier if he just asked her, instead of being a creep and listening to her breathe.  

“Did you ever consider just going in your room and asking her if she wants to come with us?” I explained, stating the obvious yet again, watching as Sherlock looked at me in confusion. 

“Of course you didn’t that’s too simple for you.” I said, walking towards Sherlock’s locked door, Sherlock following not that far behind with the key to the room in his hands. Everything always had to be so complicated, and thought out. When really he’s missing the easiest solutions that are just sitting right in front of his face. 

I grabbed the key from him, unlocking the door and ushering both of us inside to see Abrielle passed out on the bed.  

“See I told you, she’s asleep.” I stated, smiling at my sister's sleeping form. She was so innocent when she’s asleep. So young and sweet, so unlike the angry, secretive person I’ve seen lately. She was just so … pure.  

“She’s not asleep.” Sherlock said, taking me away from my thoughts. 

“Yes she is, she clearly is.” I said in a harsh tone. What did he mean? She was laying on the bed with her eyes closed and she hadn’t talked to us once since we had entered. She has to be asleep!

“She isn’t her breathing pattern is off and her body is stiff. She’s clearly awake.” Sherlock explained, walking over to Abrielle and poking her. Before I can even register what happened a blur of my sister, flipped Sherlock over onto the bed and had him pinned to the bed with a knife. A KNIFE!!!! My sister, correction … my younger sister had A KNIFE on her person that was now aiming right at Sherlock’s neck. If she didn’t move that knife soon this could turn ugly fast. 

“Oh my god, Sherlock, I’m so sorry! I was asleep and Someone poked me and I thought I was being attacked.” Abrielle said, taking the knife away from Sherlock’s throat and placing it on the bed as quickly as she possibly could. It was like she hadn’t even realized that it was Sherlock until she stopped to take a good look. Which meant she was still groggy from sleep, which means she was in fact still asleep, which means I was right and Sherlock was wrong!  

“I told you she was asleep!” I yelled in victory, the two other people in the room not even hearing what I said as they looked dreamily into each other's eyes. I mean seriously, it was like I didn’t exist and it was just them in the room together. If I’m lucky they might even kiss, which would of course end up with my hand  ‘accidentally’ slipping and punching Sherlock in the face.   

“I’m sorry that I tried to kill you.” Abrielle said, holding out her hand to help pull Sherlock up. Seriously, you’re sorry. Abrielle never apologizes, never. Manners to her is just a weakness … or as she says a murder just waiting to happen. To my sister they show that you care, and that just means a killer could snap your neck at the blink of an eye. So if apologies and any type of manners were a weakness why was she apologizing to Sherlock?   

“No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have poked you while you were sleeping.” Sherlock objected, as he dusted himself off, straightening his shirt as he did so. Alright what was going on here. First Abrielle apologizes, and now Sherlock does too? Was I in the twilight zone because this definitely wouldn’t happen in real life. Not at all.   

“No problem. You probably thought I was awake. Just don’t do it again, I could have killed you!” Abrielle announced, her tone obviously worried for the detective’s safety. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone has tried to kill me either.” Sherlock started, only to be interrupted by my laughter. Abrielle just showed that she was worried about Sherlock, and all he did to try and calm her worries was to tell her that it wasn’t the first time he’s had his life threatened? Really? Good god was he terrible at comforting people! This was just sad. 

“So would you like to join us, we were waiting for you before we went to the police with this information.” He continued, giving me a confused glare. Yeah sure, like he’s confused about me. I’m more confused than he is, this was so not the Sherlock and Abrielle I know that’s for sure. And what’s more even after all of that he still asked her to come with us. Like she would.  

“Sure, let’s go.” She said, much to my surprise as she left the room in a hurry. Why would she want to go? She never wants to go! So why now? Well the answer was obvious … Sherlock asked her. She was clearly head over heels for him, even if she had put a knife to his neck. But still, she loved him. It’s why she felt the need to come with us all of sudden.    

“Well that was interesting.” Sherlock remarked, turning towards me with a smile on his face. Did he just say interesting? That wasn’t at all what I’d call interesting.  

“She was ready to kill you, how is that interesting?” 

“She seemed awake, not only that but now we know that she sleeps as if someone is going to attack her. We can rule out assassin now. So most likely she’s a cop or spy of some sort.”  

“Yay! So no matter what it ends up being, my sister is always going to be in the midst of trouble, that’s just fantastic!” I sarcastically said, rolling my eyes that were filled to the brim with both anger and worry. Not only was I angry because I’ve been trying to protect her all her life, and I couldn’t even protect her from her job. But I was worried. Worried that one day she’s going to die because of that job and it’ll only be me to blame.

“Yeah it is rather fantastic. I’m starting to like your sister more and more, she’s amazing! Maybe having her around isn’t so bad.” 

“I’m glad that you found your new best friend but this is anything but great for me. I spent all my life trying to protect her, and now she’s constantly in danger, She keeps a knife with her when she sleeps for crying out loud!” I explained, the fear of her dangerous job weighing me down. 

“She’ll be fine John. She can take care of herself, besides I have a feeling that she works with people who would not take her death lightly.” Sherlock said, giving me a thoughtful look. Alright so people who didn’t take death lightly. So she’s a good guy. A good guy with good people backing her up. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe she’ll be alright.  

“Come on boys, I’m not waiting for you two all day!” Abrielle said from outside the room, causing both Sherlock and myself to roll our eyes at her. I wasn’t perfectly alright with this whole dangerous job thing, and the whole knife incident, but knowing that Sherlock thought she worked with very safe people that cared about her … well it made it just the tiniest bit better. For now at least.  


	15. The Nickname That Shall Not Be Spoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certainly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

_ ABRIELLE’S POV _

About ten minutes later, after finally getting to the police station and demanding to be let into Lukis’ flat, we got to the small shed like building and found our way to the right room. I followed Sherlock under the putrid yellow police tape and went up the stairs, my eyes looking at every little detail as I walked. My eyes scanning past the empty suitcase and the millions of different books as it logged each and every thing into my brain. Well, at least they did, until I noticed the tiny black piece of paper that seemed to be glinting in the sunlight. This had been a hit, no doubt about that. The black lotus gang had killed this man on purpose … but how? 

I looked around, searching for a way … any way an intruder could have come in. And that’s when I saw it. A skylight no bigger than a piece of paper stood on the ceiling, the width and length just the perfect size for a certain gymnast to get into the flat. The same gymnast that had found his way into the bank office, which means only thing … these murders were connected.   

“Four floors up. That’s why they think they’re safe. Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; think they’re impregnable.” Sherlock explained, snapping me directly out of my thinking process. His eyes scanning the living room until it came to rest upon the very skylight I had observed mere minutes ago.  

“You’re dealing with a killer who can climb. Like I said before, he was probably a gymnast at some point.” I stated, looking directly at John to see if maybe he’d make the connection as well. I mean, he was after all my brother, and he was very smart when he wanted to be …  

“So how’d he get in?” John asked, looking at the pair of us in question. Alright … so maybe he wouldn’t figure it out himself. It must be so very dull in that tiny little brain of his … even the most simplistic problems become complex in his eyes. The killer obviously didn’t walk in from the front door, so there is only one other answer that would make any sense at all in this case. 

“The skylight. Basically, the killer climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof and dropped in through that window.” I explained to him, making sure that he understood what I was saying before continuing on.   

“He did the same to Van Coon, he scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, and jumped the balcony to kill him. And of course that’s how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge …” 

“And then dropped gracefully onto the terrace. All we have to do is find out what connects these two men.” Sherlock finished for me, smirking toward me as though stealing my thunder would actually bother me. Which … it did, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Well, duh we have to find out what connects these two men … but did you really have to stop me in the middle of my sentence to say that … really?   

“Yuppers. It’s the easiest way to catch the killer.” I confirmed, smiling right back at Sherlock.

“Alright then … how do we do that?” John questioned, unsure of what to do next.

“It’s called using your eyes, John.” 

”I’m not a genius like you I don’t have the whole crime scene memorized, Bree. I can’t very well find the similarities if I don’t remember what the other place looked like.” John answered back, gesturing around him in a rather dramatic way. 

“It’s a similarity even you could spot.” I said in a sing song voice, trying my best to annoy the crap out of him,  like only a sibling could.  

“Wait … you already know. So why are playing this whole guessing game?” He questioned, his eyes crinkling up in confusion. Did he really forget things that easily, I always used to do this when we were younger. It was just like a game … very similar to those ‘I Spy’ books, but it used memorisation skills and deductions to spot the similarities of two different places. We even had a name for it and everything. So why would John even ask why I’m doing this whole ‘guessing game’?    

“Because I want to test your observation skills, just like when we were younger John. Now use your eyes and look around.” I stated, explaining my obvious reasoning to him and gesturing around the room just as dramatically as he had previously.   

I watched, looking as he tried to look around the room, his eyes glazed over and confused as though he were trying to solve the world’s hardest math problem. “Alright … um … is it the fact that they both live alone?” He said hesitantly, his words stumbling out of his mouth as slowly as they possibly could. 

“No, it’s much more simple than that.” 

“I don’t know …  just tell me.” He said in a huff, frowning at my little blast to the past game session. Oh John, just as oblivious as always … 

“Books.They both have got to own at least one of the same books.” I explained, showing him the millions of books scattered all around the small apartment. 

“Right. You do know that I don’t have the same observational skills as you, right Ellie?” He questioned, looking at me with annoyance in his eyes. My nose simply crinkling up at the nickname Ellie. Ugh, I hated the name Ellie. No, more then that … I LOATHED it. It was a horrendous name, and to make matters worse John knew I loathed that nickname. He freaking KNEW, and yet he still felt the need to call me by that name. Abrielle was fine. Bree was fine. Even Brielle was fine. But Ellie … no … just, no. I know that he’s trying to have a little fun, tease me a little bit because I made him play that memorisation game. But calling me Ellie? And even worse … smiling about it after the fact like he was now. That was passing the line. Maybe he wouldn’t have that same little smirk when I teased him, shall we see then how he feels about this all?   

“Maybe if you used your eyes a little more you’d have noticed the vast amounts of books, Johnny boy.” I stated, giving him an evil glare that I’m sure could very well kill a person if they looked for too long. Yes, that’s right I offended him and called him Johnny all in one, how awfully kind of me. It’s not like this was my first time in the rodeo. I knew how this worked. I was after all the younger annoying sister. It was my destiny.  

“Oh, not that horrid nickname.” John stated, also crinkling up his nose in distaste to the nickname.   

“You know I hate it when you call me Ellie. So, when you call me Ellie then I call you Johnny. Simple as that.” I replied, giving him a fairly simple, fairly mean warning as to what would go down if he ever decided to call me Ellie EVER in a public or nonpublic … or an type of public setting. 

“Come on … really?” John replied, looking at me as though I were being ridiculous. No, I was not being ridiculous. No, this was not some stupid rule. This was serious. Really serious. No one was allowed to say that name in front of me or behind my back for any reasons whatsoever. Even if I was dying and the only way to save me was to call me by the name that must never be named. It was not allowed to be said. Ever. Not even John thinking this whole thing was ridiculous would ever change that. This warning was law … and nothing, and I mean NOTHING would change that.

“ _ Speaking _ of books …” Sherlock said, trying to pull our conversation back to the murderers at hand. I stopped my rant, watching as Sherlock took a book off of one of the top stacks on the stairs and looking at the cover. A smile taking over his face as he tossed it to me. I looked at it, the cover staring back at me as I looked at the inside, the very obvious clue staring back at me as I slammed it shut and raced down the stairs, the book still tightly grasped in my hand. 

“Let’s head to the library!” I exclaimed, the other two following in my footsteps. I was close, so very close to Shan I could feel it. This was it, the clue that would lead me to her. The clue that would lead me straight into the snake pit. But I was ready … oh yes, I’ve been ready for a long time. And I’m sure that Shan has been ready as well. Oh, yes Shan may think she is ready for the battle, the finishing of the fight that had long since gone, or the revenge that she so dearly wanted. Shan may think she is ready, with her fangs sharpened and her poison ready to take effect. But what she isn’t ready for is me. I’m close Shan, and I am ready. You can’t hide behind origami paper forever. Ready or not, Shan because I’m coming to find you. And when I do you’ll wish I hadn’t. 

_________________________________________________________________________


	16. The Mystery Behind Miss Sarcastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certainly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

SHERLOCK’S POV

We had quickly made our way to the library, where we had easily found our next clue. Both Abrielle and I had quickly figured out that the murders were connected, and the threatening note at library only confirmed that. The same threatening note that we had seen previously at the bank. The only thing we needed to figure out now is what connected them. Knowing that I would have no luck figuring out this connection in an unfamiliar, very tedious setting I made my way straight back to the flat with Abrielle and John in tow. 

“So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon; Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in. Hours later, he dies.” I concluded, summing up what we knew thus far. 

“The killer knows that Lukis will be going to the library, so he writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it’ll be seen; Lukis then goes home to his death.” Abrielle finished for me, her eyes glinting with curiosity. She was just as confused with this case as I was, no doubt. We were after all equals in both intellect and personality, so there was really no surprise there. This case was just so difficult! Not because of the strange graffiti, or the fact that we can’t seem to find many clues. Oh, god no. To be honest I’ve solved cases with less clues before, no. It was the fact that Abrielle was constantly on my mind. Who was she? What was she hiding? Just the thought of Abrielle made my head whirl. She was a confusing case that I needed to figure out and fast.   

“Why did they die, Sherlock?” John questioned, sympathy very clearly painted on his face as he snapped me out of my random  thoughts.  

“Only the cipher can tell us.” I explained, looking intently at the yellow spray painted line captured in the photograph I had taken. 

“Thank you for stating the obvious, genius.” I heard Abrielle sarcastically say, a smirk lighting up her features. 

“I was explaining it to John.” I answered back, defending myself from her very rude commentary. There was no need for her sarcasm,  I was simply answering John’s question! 

“Yeah, and quite dramatically too if I do say so myself.” She replied, raising her eyebrow as if challenging me to prove her wrong.  

“I’ll never understand you.” 

“Oh, I know.” She answered back, all hints of a joking tone gone from her voice. I wanted to understand her … I wanted to understand her so badly. She was a girl, a girl that just happened to be my best and only friend’s sister. But most of all she was a girl that for some reason I found interest in. She was a strong woman, an independent woman. And a woman that was my equal … a woman that never said no, not even to dangerous situations. She was a risk taker, and adventure seeker, and a woman that for the first time in a long time I couldn’t understand. She wasn’t obsessed with shoes or clothing like most girls, or obsessed with how she looked or how much money she had. All she cared about was living her life and having some fun. She wasn’t cautious or protective, she lived on the edge just like me. She was the definition of genius. She was a multitasker, a talented person that understood practically everything this world has to offer. She was funny and her jokes weren’t obvious or dumb. She is understanding. She can figure out what I want when I want it and she can tell what I’m thinking. She is an enigma, and she is the enigma … the only enigma that for some reason I’m actually intrigued by. She was me.   

“Who are you Abrielle Watson?” I asked out loud, my eyes scanning Abrielle’s eyes for any type of explanation. 

“I’m me.” She said with a small smile, her eyes shimmering with mystery. I knew it was more than that. She was her, but that’s now.What about her past, or the secret she was so intent on keeping hidden? She had a different past, a past that I’m sure she would much rather forget. 

“Who are you really?” 

“Figure it out, genius.” She stated sarcastically, her eyes challenging me to work out the case of Abrielle on my own. This was not going to be easy that was for sure.  

“You are impossible.” 

“Yuppers! Now shall we go find a murderer?” She questioned, getting up from the couch she had previously sat on and walked over to the door.  

“We shall Ms. Watson.” I stated, walking over to the door and holding it open for her in a mocking manner. She smiled exiting the room, John following not far behind us. For now we would go on with trying to solve the strange graffiti murders. Abrielle was a mystery to be solved, and a mystery that I’m sure will take lots of effort and time on my part. I know that I will most certainly spend hours thinking about her mystery. And eventually, maybe not now or anytime soon, she is a mystery that I will solve. Even it takes me days, or months, or even years of putting the clues together I will figure it out. Abrielle better watch her back, because whether she wants me to find out or not I will figure her out. I will figure out her past, her secret, who she is now, everything. Every little detail. I will solve the enigma that is Abrielle Watson.   


	18. The Brother of A Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.   
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.   
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.   
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

_ JOHN’S POV _

After a very stressful evening I was back at Scotland yard. I mean, first I had gotten caught by community support officer. Then I had been accused of “tagging a public building” and thrown, quite roughly might I add, into the back of a police car and given an ASBO at the police station. Me of all people! An ASBO! A former army Doctor with no police record to speak of and now I had a bloody ASBO! And it was all Bree’s friend’s fault. I can’t believe my little sister is friends with that boy. He’s a criminal, the lowest of the low, and my sweet little sister was friends with him. It was a disgrace! She could get hurt because of him. She could get a criminal record for associating with him. So much could go wrong because of him. Not to mention I now had a criminal record! Kinda. Okay … not really. But that wasn’t the point. After waiting for hours for my bloody ASBO I had gotten back to the flat only for Bree to instantly turn me back around and tell me to head to Scotland Yard. After everything I’d been through she asks me of all people to go. She could have asked Sherlock, but no, even the idea of leaving Sherlock was the worst idea possible. I just didn’t get it, they had to be together or they couldn’t think. Abrielle even denied a trip to Dublin, to stay with Sherlock. Dublin! The place she’s dreamed of living since she was five years old and she didn’t want to go because she didn’t want to leave Sherlock behind to solve cases himself. Not to mention, if they were both so keen on staying together, they could have just gone to Scotland Yard together while I had been stuck at the police station! But no, I had to do it, so here I was sitting across from DI Dimmock while he looks through a box of stuff for me, when he could have been doing several other things.   

“Your friend …” Dimmock started, causing me to look up.

“Listen: Whatever you say, I’m behind you one hundred percent.” I told him, stopping him. Sherlock was … a bit much for some people. He wasn’t the kindest, and his intelligence could kind of get to you. Not to mention he was very strange to anyone who didn’t know him. After such a long time living with the man, and after basically living with the female copy of Sherlock I was immune to it all. But others … well, they weren’t as used to the … strangeness of Sherlock Holmes.  

“He’s an arrogant sod.” 

“Well, that was mild! People say a lot worse than that.” I replied, a smile on my face. I’ve heard it all. People have called him the worst of names, and I was always the one they complained to. While he ran around solving crimes and deducing people I was the one that took all the complaints and all the emotional baggage that came with it. Because no matter how much Sherlock thought he was smart he was actually a complete and utter idiot when it came to emotions. He didn’t understand that when someone was crying it was because he had deduced something they didn’t want other people knowing. And he didn’t know how to console others, or help them with what they’re going through. All he knew was how to solve cases, and that’s why he needed me. I added the intelligence in emotions that he lacked, and it’s one of the reasons that I had stuck around for so long. He needed me just as much as I needed him.  

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The journalist’s diary?” Dimmock asked, slamming a book on the table and snapping me out of my thoughts. 

“Yeah, that’s what my sister told me to get.” I replied, grabbing the small diary off the table and putting it safely into my coat pocket.

“Ah, so the lady sent you. That makes sense, she’s the authority sort.”

“Really?” I replied, looking at him as though he were insane. Authority sort? I mean, yeah, she told me what to do and I did it because I was a nice older brother. And she did seem to be able to make Sherlock do what she wanted. And she does seem to make people do things the way she wants them done. But did that really make her the authority sort?  

“Yeah, where is she? She told me she wanted me to look into something for her.”  

“She’s busy at the moment. But what did she want you to look into.” I asked curiously. What could she have possibly wanted from the police? Did it have to do with this supposed secret that Sherlock thinks she’s hiding? But why the police? It didn’t make any sense. Why tell the police and not us? Was she safe? Was she being threatened or something? Is that why she wouldn’t tell us? She seemed okay. And she didn’t really talk to anyone other than me and Sherlock. But why ask the police?  

“She wanted me to look into this one gang … The Black Lotus I think it was called.” Dimmock replied, causing my curiosity to grow. I could have sworn I’ve heard Abrielle mumble that name a few times recently. Who were they? Why was she asking about a gang … not to mention, how the hell did she know the name of some specific gang that I’ve never even heard of?  

“Do you know why she asked you?” I asked, trying to figure out what my sister was hiding that seemed to involve some inconspicuous gang. 

“It beats me. But tell her that I have the file on it if she wants it.” Dimmock replied, my mind barely registering that he had already gotten up to put the box of stuff back in evidence where it had previously been.  

“I will.” I replied, calling to the man that was now at the other end of the hall as I got up from my seat. I walked slowly out of the building, my mind extremely preoccupied. What was Bree hiding? And what was this black lotus gang that she was asking about … to the police no less. It almost seemed like this made me think of my sister in a whole other light. Who was this stranger that seemed to inhabit my sister’s body? Because it was not my sister. My sister would never hide anything from me. Never. And now here she was. She was so different from the innocent little girl that was as honest and pure as an angel. She was keeping secrets from strictly me. And that … that made me scared. What was so bad that she couldn’t tell me. Her brother. Her best friend. The person that she shared everything with. And if it wasn’t a matter of trust, it was something else entirely … it was fear. So the question now was … what was Abrielle Watson afraid of?    

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	19. The Perfect Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abrielle Watson was a girl with many secrets. A girl broken beyond relief from her terrible past, and a woman haunted from the memories she tried to hide so badly behind her pessimistic personality.  
> Sherlock Holmes was the ice man, that very rarely showed emotion. A man that acted more like a young boy than a grown adult, and a man that was most certaintly a genius.  
> She was destruction, and fire, and death.  
> He was safety, and adventure, and a fresh start from the past.  
> When her past comes back, and her heart finally shatters will Sherlock Holmes be able to pick up the pieces, or will the puzzle to unlock her trust be hidden away forever?

_ SHERLOCK’S POV _

After waiting for hours for John to show up at the flat, and sending him on his way to Scotland yard, me and Abrielle had decided to find some clues of our own back at the bank. So, obviously, that’s where we were now, my eyes watching Abrielle as she paced the room her mind calculating as her beautiful eyes ran over every little detail of the room and the area surrounding it, waiting until Amanda, Van Coon’s receptionist, brought out the receipts we had asked of her. Abrielle was just perfect. He couldn’t describe it … just whenever he looked at her he felt like the world had stopped. Which is impossible, because if the world did in fact stop anything not rooted to the center of the earth would cease to exist and all living things would die. But, looking at Abrielle Watson, watching as her nose crinkled up in concentration, and her hair flowed through the air in perfect curls, well … she just seemed to make the impossible happen it seemed. I snapped out of my thoughts, watching as Amanda walked into the room, several receipts in her hands as she approached us both.       

“What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?” I asked the woman, watching as she started spreading the receipts on her desk.  

“Um, no. That’s not a word I’d use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag.” She replied with a small smile, much like Abrielle would do when she were remembering a fond memory from her past. I looked at Bree, watching as she glanced over at us and looked Amanda up and down, her brain still calculating as she appeared to be reaching the same conclusion as I was.   

“Like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didn’t he?” Abrielle questioned walking over to where we were causing something I could only describe as rhopaloceras to flutter in my stomach. That seemed to happen a lot recently. I never understood what it was, but whenever she got close to me I’d feel the same flutter. It never made sense to me.     

Amanda fiddled nervously with her hair, looking up and Abrielle as if Abrielle had read her mind. “How’d you know?” She asked in a surprised tone, completely awestruck by Abrielle’s deduction.  

“Oh … um. My friend bought me some.” She replied to the woman, causing my ears to perk up in curiosity. What friend? It certainly wasn’t Raz as he could never possibly afford it. And John was her brother, so it couldn’t have been him. So who else was there? Who was this rich ‘friend’ of hers that was buying her super expensive gifts? Was it the same so called ‘friend’ that she had been talking about earlier … the one that wore the super expensive suits, and the one that had called her earlier for some reason? Not to mention, why lotion of all things? She didn’t need lotion. She had perfect skin, flawless skin. She was perfect the way she was. Some ‘friend’ he was for wasting his money on something she didn’t even need. I averted my eyesight, looking through the receipts and trying to forget about this stupid ‘friend’ of hers.      

“Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty.” I stated, giving Abrielle the receipt so she could take a look.   

“That would get him to the office.” Amanda replied, looking over Abrielle’s shoulder in confusion, as if she couldn’t possibly understand why a simple receipt could solve her boss's murder.  

“No, it’s more than that, check the time. It was mid-morning. Eighteen pounds would get him as far as the West End.” Abrielle replied, looking through the rest of the receipts, as though she knew exactly what had happened. Knowing her, and her beautifully intelligent mind she probably did actually, which made everything that much better. She smiled, pulling a receipt out of the pile and handing it to me.  

“Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly.” I read, my brain coming to the same conclusion Abrielle’s had come to a few seconds prior.  

“So he got a Tube back to the office and not a taxi.” I stated, Abrielle nodding her head looking at me with excitement dazzling in her eyes.  

“Yes, because he was delivering something heavy. He didn’t want to lug a package up the escalator.” She rambled, still going through the receipts.  

“Delivering?” Amanda asked, confusion prominent in her expression. She clearly didn’t understand what we were talking about. Imbecile.    

“Yeah, he was delivering something somewhere near Piccadilly Station.” Abrielle confirmed, not even bothering to look up from the pile of receipts she was looking through. I picked up a receipt that had fallen to the floor, knowing it was probably the receipt she was looking for, reading it as if trying to figure out what she had.  

“Look Abrielle, he stopped on his way. He got peckish.” I replied, connecting the dots as I handed the receipt over to the flawless woman. She read it quickly, her eyes scanning over the words as a giant grin spread across her face. She instantly stuffed the receipts in her pocket, looking at me in excitement.  

“Thanks for all the help.” She stated to Amanda before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the building, the flutter in my stomach not at all holding back, as I looked down at our hands laced together as one. They fit perfectly together like enzymes and substrates, almost like we were meant to hold hands. She was the perfect combination of DNA. The perfect structure of atoms that had created the single most extraordinary living thing in any galaxy ever created. I didn’t know exactly what I was feeling when I was around Abrielle Watson, or why she seemed so perfect in my eyes, but I knew one thing, I liked it. It made me feel happiness in a way that I had never felt before. It wasn’t the type of happiness I felt whilst solving crimes, or using drugs. This was different. Much different. It made me feel like I could fly … if that was at all scientifically possible. It made me feel like a better person, and in all honesty it made me feel complete. Abrielle Watson made me feel like the world is a better place, and with her by my side I know that I can and will succeed in everything I do. She was everything. She was my ying to my yang. The Watson to my Holmes. The perfect scientific partner, the perfect crime solver. The perfect everything, and I’d die before I let anything happen to her.    

_ ____________________________________________________________________________ _


End file.
